V 


WHICH  IS  THE  WISER: 


PEOPLE    ABROAD. 


A  TALE  FOR  YOUTH. 


13Y  MARY  HOW1TT, 


AUTHOR    OP 
')ITan*  AWD  THRIVE, "   "HOPE  ON   I    HOPE  EVER  I"    "SOWIS8  AND  Ef  iPlSCT 
"WHO   BHiU.   BE    GBEATEST,"  &C.  &C.  &C. 


NEW-YORK: 

D.    APPLETON   &   COMPANY, 

443  &  445  BROADWAY. 

18C3. 


WHICH    IS    THE    WISER; 

OR, 

PEOPLE    ABROAD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A      GERMAN      PICTURE. 

There  had  been  a  deal  of  sorrow  in  the  dwelling  of 
the  widow  Hoffmann — much  sorrow  and  many  tears; 
there  had  been  deaths  of  little  children,  and  deaths 
also  of  those  growing  up  to  man's  and  woman's  estate; 
there  had  been  the  destruction  of  all  life's  hopes  and 
prospects,  in  the  death,  whilst  yet  in  the  prime  of 
life,  and  the  bright  promise  of  fortune,  of  a  beloved 
and  affectionate  husband.  Add  to  all  this,  that  there 
had  been  the  change  from  plenty  and  prosperity,  to 
narrow  economy  and  the  privation  of  every  costly 
indulgence,  and  every  one  will  grant  that  the  widow 
Hoffmann  was  not  without  cause  for  tears;  that  it 
was  not  without  cause  either,  that  her  once  bright 
eye  was  dimmed,  and  her  once  abundant  black  hair 
was  thin  and  of  a  silvery  whiteness.  Still,  though 
all  this  was  true,  the  heart  of  the  widow  had  ceased 
to  mourn  as  one  without  hope ;  and  the  sorrow  which 
had  passed,  and  which  had  been  so  overwhelming  in 
the  passing,  might  be  compared  now  to  the  back- 
ground to  a  picture,  serving  in  a  great  degree  to 
throw  the  near  and  the  present  into  stronger  and 
clearer  lights. 

True  it  is,  that  as  the  year  brought  round  its  many 


4  A   GERMAN  PICTURE. 

memorable  anniversaries  (for  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  like  all 
Germans,  religiously  kept  all  anniversaries) — the  day 
of  her  betrothal,  five-and-thirty  years  before — the  day 
of  her  marriage — the  birthdays  of  her  deceased  hus* 
band,  or  those  of  her  numerous  children — or  those 
darker  days  which  the  deaths  of  so  many  loved  ones 
had  made  ineffaceable  in  her  soul — her  brow  wore  a 
more  thoughtful,  nay,  almost  a  pensive  character, 
and  she  began  the  day  with  the  persuasion  that  she 
must  sit  down,  and  meditate,  and  be  sad.  On  such 
occasions,  however,  there  never  failed  to  be  an  unu- 
sual mildness  and  kindness  in  her  totie  anfl  manner, 
and  her  little  maid,  Benedicta,  otherwise  Bena,  who 
had  now  lived  with  her  nearly  three  years — a  short, 
neat,  and' rosy-faced  German  girl- — never  failed  to 
receive  some  mark  of  kindness  or  consideration  from 
her  hands;  in  return  for  which,  whenever  she  saw  her 
mistress  unusually  thoughtful,  she  moved  about  the 
four  rooms,  which  constituted  the  whole  of  the 
widow's  dwelling,  with  much  more  quietness  than 
might  have  been  expected  from  any  German  maid- 
servant whatever. 

"  Bena,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  on  a  certain  6th  of 
June,  in  the  year  1836,  "  you  have  been  a  good  girl 
to-day,  and  have  remembered  my  orders,  nor  have 
slammed  the  doors,  as  you  commonly  do,  which  was 
very  considerate;  for  you  must  have  seen  how  bad 
my  head  has  been." 

Bena  smiled  and  looked  pleased,  and  played  with 
the  corner  of  her  apron.  "  And  therefore,  my  good 
girl,"  continued  her  mistress,  "you  shall  take  some 
of  those  little  cakes  to  your  lame  brother ;  and,  if 
your  grandfather  wishes  for  another  bottle  of  wine, 
he  can  send  word.  Now  go,  my  good  girl ;  but  you 
must  be  back  by  half-past  nine.  I  will  get  my  own 
•supper  to-night ;.  but  be  sure  when  yja  come  back 


A  GERMAN   PICTURE.  5 

not  to  ring  at  all  violently ;  my  head  has  been  bad 
all  day,  and  that  bell  alarms  me  so  much." 

Bena  was  the  happiest  servant-maid  in  all  Heidel- 
berg. She  took  the  little  cakes  which  her  mistress 
gave  her,  and  put  them  carefully  into  her  smart 
holiday  basket :  she  then  bestowed  upon  her  smooth 
brown  hair  an  extra  brushing,  and  pinned  up  again 
the  back  plait  with  more  than  ordinary  care ;  for  it 
was,  she  knew,  a  fine  warm  evening,  and  everybody 
would  be  either  walking  out,  or  looking  from  their 
windows;  and  Bena,  although  only  a  poor  maid- 
servant, had  a  little  female  love  of  admiration.  This 
arrangement  of  her  hair  being  made  to  her  satisfaction, 
she  pinned  about  her  neck  a  closely-plaited  muslin 
frill,  over  which  she  tied  a  printed  pink  handkerchief, 
and  then,  putting  on  a  clean  buff  printed  apron,  she 
took  the  little  holiday  basket,  with  its  two  bows  of 
rose-coloured  ribbon,  on  her  arm,  and,  giving  good 
heed  to  shut  her  own  bed-room  door  with  great  quiet- 
ness, set  forth  towards  her  home,  which,  fortunately 
for  her,  lay  on  exactly  the  other  side  of  the  city. 
Bena  was  very  happy  that  evening;  she  was  so  glad 
that  she  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  walk  through  the 
whole  length  of  that  cheerful  Haupt  Strasse,  or  High 
Street,  and  that  she  might  even  look  into  the  shop- 
windows  if  she  pleased,  and  fancy,  as  she  stood  before 
a  milliner's,  how  she  should  look  in  a  bonnet,  if  she 
were  only  a  lady  to  wear  one;  and  then,  after  her 
walk  was  done,  what  a  pleasure  it  would  be  to  sur- 
prise the  poor  lame  Peter  with  the  delicious  little 
cakes,  which  should  be  all  for  his  own  eating.  Such 
were  her  thoughts  as  she  quietly  closed  the  great 
door  of  the  general  staircase  of  that  large  bouse,  in 
which  her  mistress  was  one  of  the  third  story  inmates. 

This  Gth  of  June,  then,  be  it  understood,  was  cne 
of  the  widow  Hoffmann's  anniversaries,  and  she  was 


6  A  GERMAN  PICTURE. 

willing  for  this  evening  to  be  alone,  that  she  might 
sit  and  meditate.  She  was  not,  however,  so  wholly 
absorbed  by  her  personal  feelings,  as  not  to  listen  for 
the  departure  of  the  little  maiden;  and  even  after 
the  house-door-bell  had  sounded,  upon  her  going 
forth,  she.  thought  for  a  few  moments  upon  the  patient 
young  invalid,  to  whose  feeble  appetite  she  had  now 
furnished  a  small  enjoyment.  From  this  she  went 
on  to  think  that,  since  the  linking  fast  of  all  family 
ties  was  good  for  our  human  hearts,  so  should  the 
kind  little  Bena  not  fail,  on  many  an  evening  of  this 
coming  summer,  to  visit  her  family,  and  carry  with 
her  small  presents  to  her  lame  brother  and  her  bed- 
ridden grandfather.  "It  will  be  a  pleasure,"  thought 
she,  "henceforth  to  do  kindnesses ;  for  if,  please  God, 
that  Karl  pass  his  examination  with  honour,  as  I  am 
sure  he  will,  how  happy  shall  I  be!  and  when  one  is 
happy,  then  is  the  time  to  make  others  so.  I  might 
even  now,  reasoned  she  with  herself,  spite  of  all  that 
I  have  gone  through,  have  done  much  more  to  make 
those  about  me  happy ;  but,  Heaven  help  us !  sorrow 
is  such  an  absorbing  feeling,  it  makes  us  so  selfish; 
but  if  it  please  God  that  all  goes  on  now  well  about 
poor  Karl,  I  will  do  my  endeavour  to  amend!"  Good 
Mrs.  Hoffmann,  she  did  not  know  that  these  very 
sorrows  of  which  she  spoke,  had  opened  wide  her 
heart  to  every  kindly  sympathy,  and  that,  if  ever 
there  was  a  self-forgetting  good  Christian,  it  was 
herself:  nor  was  she  at  all  aware  that  her  kind, 
tender,  good-will  overflowing  soul  never  was  so  pene- 
trated through  and  through  with  universal  charity,  as 
on  those  particular  days  which  she  consecrated  to  hci 
past  sorrow. 

The  truth  was,  Mrs.  Hoffmann  reasoned  about 
nothing,  and  least  of  all  would  she  have  thought  of 
reasoning  about  herself;    therefore  she  never  came  to 


A  GERMAN  PICTURE.  7 

the  true  conclusion,  that  she  was  a  very  excellent 
woman.  Her  son  Karl,  however,  knew  it  well  enough; 
and,  if  anybody  could  have  persuaded  her  of  the 
existence  of  many  virtues,  it  would  have  been  he; 
but  then,  Karl  did  not  argue  with  his  mother  about 
anything ;  and,  if  he  had  tried  to  persuade  her  that 
she  was  as  good  as  he  knew  her  to  be,  she  would 
only  have  answered,  "  Thou  art  partial,  dear  Karl; 
yet,  for  this  I  cannot  blame  thee.  Thou  and  I  are 
alone  in  the  world  together,  and.  God  knows  what 
would  become  of  me  without  thy  love!" 

But  this  is  the  6th  of  June,  we  must  remember ; 
and  Benahas  been  gone  these  five  minutes,  and  Mrs. 
Hoffmann  has  settled  herself  on  the  sofa,  and  has 
placed  her  knitting-basket  on  the  tea-table  before 
her,  and  commenced  her  knitting  and  her  thinking 
at  the  same  moment. 

"Ah!"  thought  she,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  five-and- 
thirty  years  is  it  this  very  day  since  our  betrothal ; 
and,  strange  enough,  this  day  combines  in  itself  two 
other  memories  —  the  death  of  my  first-born,  and, 
saddest  of  all,  fifteen  years  afterwards,  the  death  of 
that  child's  beloved  father! — Three  anniversaries  in 
one!"  The  widow  wept,  and  dwelt  for  some  time 
with  inexpressible  anguish  on  the  memory  of  this  last 
event,  and  on  the  consequences  which  it  had  involved. 
But  there  was  a  golden  lirjht  within  her  own  mind 
which,  unconsciously  to  herself,  gleamed  over  all,  and 
made  her  much  more  willingly  dwell  on  the  good 
things  that  were  left,  than  on  those  that  had  departed 
for  ever;  therefore  she  thought  on  Karl,  and  dried 
her  tears,  and  again  resumed  her  knitting.  Before 
long,  her  mind  had  gone  back  five-and-thirty  years, 
and  she  was  with  her  father  and  mother  in  the 
abode  of  her  youth; — her  father,  the  pastor  of  a 
cich  village  in  the  north  of  Germany,  emphatically 


8  A  GERMAN  PICTURE. 

the  father  of  his  flock,  and  her  mother,  the  beau- 
ideal  of  a  good  wife  and  mother — tender,  loving,  pru- 
dent, self-forgetting,  frugal,  and  industrious.  She 
remembered  the  winter-spinning,  and  the  summer- 
knitting;  the  house-presses  full  of  linen  and  wearing 
apparel ;  the  domestic  regularity,  plenty,  and  hospi- 
tality ;  the  almost  absurdly  small  income,  yet  the 
never-experienced  want;  and  she  thought  it  was  a 
privilege  which  in  her  youth  she  had  never  sufficiently 
felt,  to  have  been  the  child  of  such  parents.  But  as 
her  immediate  business  was  with  one  particular  anni- 
versary, she  recalled  the  first  introduction  of  the 
youth  Hoffmann,  the  son  of  the  rich  Hamburgh 
merchant,  into  their  house  as  her  father's  pupil.  How 
vividly  came  back  the  recollection  of  all  those  times. 
She  was  sitting  with  her  mother  under  the  lime-tree 
in  the  front,  shelling  pease,  on  the  first  evening  of  his 
arrival ;  and  there  now  came  back  tq>  her  mind  the 
very  humming  of  the  bees  in  the  flowers  of  the  lime- 
tree  above  their  head,  and  the  song  of  the  blackbird 
which  hung  in  its  wicker  cage  on  the  front  wall  of 
the  house.  Then  what  a  golden  happy  time  were 
the  next  twelve  months! — the  nativity  of  her  soul, 
as  it  were;  for  until  she  had  known  Hoffmann,  she 
had  thought  of  little  else  but  household  cares  and 
duties.  Till  then  had  she  prided  herself  most  on  the 
endless  variety  of  cakes,  small  and  great,  which  she 
could  manufacture ;  and  on  the  frugal  yet  ever-varied 
dinners  which  she  could  cook;  on  the  seventy-five 
pairs  of  stockings  which  she  had  already  knit  and 
marked,  and  which  lay  among  piles  of  excellent 
wearables,  all  duly  marked  likewise  and  numbered, 
in  her  chest  of  drawers ;  on  the  bed-covers  she  had 
quilted,  and  on  the  two  last  winters'  spinning,  which 
enabled  her  to  reckon  among  her  own  personal  pro- 
perty sundry  table-cloths  and  napkins,  every  thread 


A  GERMAN  PICTURE.  9 

of  which  had  passed  between  her  own  fingers.  "  Ah! 
well,"  thought  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  "  it  was  a  useful  part 
of  my  education  after  all — a  good  initiation  into  the 
duties  of  after  life — and,  to  my  latest  day,  I  shall 
have  cause  to  bless  the  good  mother  who  never 
allowed  my  hands  to  remain  idle!" 

For  some  time  after  this  the  knitting  went  on  with 
renewed  energy,  but  by  and  by  it  slackened  into  a 
mere  mechanical  movement  of  the  fingers,  as  her 
mind  reverted  again  to  that  day  five-and- thirty  years 
— the  day  of  her  betrothal.  It  was  a  happy  house- 
hold festival,  the  betrothal  of  an  only  child  to  a  well- 
known  youth  of  the  fairest  promise.  There  was 
almost  more  of  a  festival  in  it  than  in  the  marriage 
itself.  There  were  two  grandfathers  and  one  grand- 
mother present,  many  aunts,  and  uncles,  and  cousins 
near  and  remote ;  there  were  garlands  of  flowers  hung 
on  the  walls ;  music  and  dancing  for  the  youth ; 
plenty  of  wine  and  beer  and  good  tobacco  for  the  old 
gentlemen,  and  tea  and  cakes  for  the  ladies!  The 
moment  when  Mrs.  Hoffmann's  thoughts  were  thus 
far  away  in  North  Germany,  and  she  was  living  over 
again  a  happy  event,  which  lay  even  far  more  re- 
motely in  the  past,  she  was  suddenly  recalled  to 
present  realities  by  a  gentle,  yet  so  persevering  a 
tapping  at  her  door,  as  made  her  instantly  conclude 
the  knock  had  been  repeated.  Immediately,  there- 
fore, on  her  replying,  "  Herein,"  or  walk  in,  the  door 
opened,  and  the  slender,  somewhat  carefully  dressed 
figure  of  Madame  Von  Holzhauser  presented  herself. 
Who,  our  readers  will  naturally  say,  was  Madame 
Von  Holzhauser?  We  will  endeavour  to  satisfy 
their  curiosity. 

Madame  Von  Holzhauser,  then,  thirty  years  before; 
was  the  prima  donna  of  one  season — the  admired, 
nay,   almost  worshipped   star  of  musical  Germany 


10  A  GERMAN  PICTURE. 

Her  life,  from  her  very  cradle,  had  been  strange  and 
unhappy.  In  her  childhood  she  had  belonged  tc 
wretchedly  poor  people,  who  were'  connected  with 
the  theatre  in  Berlin;  her  parents  they  certainly 
could  not  have  been,  for  she  was  subjected  by  them 
to  every  possible  want  and  misery.  Her  earliest 
recollection  was  of  standing  at  the  theatre-doors  to 
beg,  and  of  being  forbidden,  on  pain  of  severe  punish- 
ment, from  returning  home,  unless  she  brought  with 
her  money  to  above  a  certain  amount. 

She  was  born  with  extraordinary  musical  faculties ; 
fortunately,  however,  this  was  not  discovered  by  the 
persons  who  had  possession  of  her,  early  enough  for 
her  to  be  exhibited  as  an  infant  prodigy :  to  them  she 
was  useful  only  to  beg ;  but  many  and  many  a  night 
she  forgot  her  miserable  duty — forgot  even  the  pain- 
ful infliction  which  was  the  certain  consequence  of 
such  a  neglect,  in  listening  to  the  glorious  strains  of 
some  favourite  singer,  from  the  half-open  doors  of  the 
opera.  Occasionally,  also,  she  crept  in  unobserved, 
or  was  permitted  to  enter  by  some  good-natured, 
music-loving  door-keeper,  who,  sympathising  in  the 
wretched  child's  passion  for  his  favourite  art,  over- 
looked the  small,  but  otherwise  all-important  fact,  of 
her  having  neither  money  nor  ticket. 

But  at  length  her  musical  powers  made  themselves 
iuo wn  to  her  possessors,  and  then,  to  a  certain 
degree,  her  state  amended  itself.  She  was  apprenticed 
to  a  professor  of  music,  who  undertook  to  give  her 
all  the  needful  instruction,  on  condition  of  sharing 
with  her  owners  the  product  of  her  first  three  years 
of  public  life.  She  now  became  to  them  an  object 
of  the  most  intense  interest,  and  the  most  unsparing 
pains  were  taken  to  urge  her  dawning  powers  forward. 
Time  was  hardly  permitted  for  sleep ;  day  and  night, 
night  and  day,  her  one   occupation  went  forward. 


A  GERMAN  PICTURE.  11 

Now  she  was  flattered  and  caressed,  and  promised 
the  most  splendid  advantages,  the  most  brilliant  and 
triumphant  career,  whilst  baubles  and  trumpery  finery- 
were  heaped  upon  her  as  present  rewards  and  as 
earnests  of  what  was  to  be ;  then  again,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  she  threatened  with  unimaginable  punish- 
ments, and  made  even  to  suffer  bitter  cruelties,  as  a 
foretaste  of  what  her  fate  should  be  did  she  dare  to 
disappoint  the  expectations  of  her  task-masters.  But 
the  miserable,  once  half-starved,  and  even  now  ill- 
used  Marie,  was  one  of  God's  noblest  creatures, 
endowed  with  the  rare  gift  of  genius;  and,  spite  of 
hardships  and  oppressions,  and  a  moral  infliction 
which  could  not  be  called  training,  she  grew  up  with 
powers  which  promised  to  satisfy  all  the  expectations 
of  her  masters,  and  with  qualities  of  heart  and  soul 
which,  spite  of  uncertainty  of  temper  and  wayward- 
ness of  will,  were  calculated  to  make  social  life  and 
character  perfectly  happy.  But  poor  Marie  belonged 
to  that  class  of  beings  who,  one  knows  not  why, 
seem  born  to  be  unhappy— their  business  in  this 
world  is  to  bear  and  suffer — to  be  encouraging  ex- 
amples  to  others — to  teach  others  patience  and  con- 
tentment :  their  reward,  and  their  happiness  assuredly, 
however,  will  come,  though  perhaps  only  in  the  other 
world. 

She  made  her  debut  in  the  musical  world  in  a  new 
opera  at  Vienna,  and  her  success  was  instantaneous. 
The  public  voice  was  at  once  loud  in  her  praise ; 
princes  and  grand  dukes  listened  to  her  with  rapture, 
and  showered  upon  her  golden  proofs  of  their  ap- 
plause ;  and  poets,  among  whom  was  the  greatest  in 
Germany,  even  Goethe  himself,  not  only  sang  hymns 
in  her  praise,  but  gave  her  tokens  of  their  devotion 
also.  Ammii;  the  very  last  valuables  which  the  poor 
Marie  parted  with  in  her  after  troubles,  was  a  ring 


12  A  GERMAN  TICTURE. 

set  with  one  small  but  exquisite  diamond,  the  gift  of 
this  noble  poet. 

Marie's  powers  had  at  once  become  as  a  mine  of 
gold  to  her  possessors,  and  she  was  watched  over 
with  the  most  dragon-like  jealousy.  She  lived  in 
splendour ;  she  appeared  in  public  apparelled  nobly ; 
she  was  seen  in  the  streets  of  the  city  seated  like  a 
queen  in  a  costly  equipage,  but  she  was  For  all  this 
no  more  free  than  the  captive  in  his  dungeon.  It 
was  in  vain  that  she  made  efforts  to  free  herself  at 
once  from  her  captors ;  they  were  too  artful  for  her, 
and  had  entangled  too  many  snares  about  her  for  her 
readily  to  escape.  For  a  whole  season  she  reigned 
triumphant,  and  there  seemed  outwardly  no  probable 
limit  to  her  influence  and  prosperity.  There  was, 
however,  all  this  time,  one  deep  and  serious  cause 
of  doubt  and  anxiety  both  in  her  mind  and  in  the 
minds  of  her  masters.  The  severity  and  hardships 
of  her  earlier  youth,  and  perhaps,  also,  some  na- 
tural weakness  in  the  organs  of  her  voice,  rendered 
the  utmost  care  needful  to  preserve  it,  not  only  in 
its  full  tone  and  power,  but  also  to  prevent  her 
losing  it  altogether.  The  least  exposure  to  a  damp 
atmosphere  occasioned  temporary  loss  of  voice ;  but 
most  of  all  was  it  influenced  by  the  state  of  her  own 
mind.  She  was  often  nervous  and  timid  to  a  painful 
degree,  and  at  such  times  she  could  not  make  herself 
audible;  the  very  dread  of  such  an  occurrence  in- 
creased the  cause,  and  the  poor  prima  donna,  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  brilliant  success,  was  devoured  by 
a  secret  fear  which  stung  her  almost  to  madness. 
To  lose  her  voice  was  to  lose  at  once  her  hold  on  the 
public  heart,  and  to  lose  this  was  to  be  thrown  back 
into  the  merciless  hands  of  her  disappointed  posses- 
sors. As  it  always  happens  that  there  is  a  party 
against  as  well  as  for  any  popular  person  or  thing,  so 


A  GERMAN   PICTURE.  13 

was  there  also  in  her  case ;  she  had  her  opposition 
party,  who  watched  her  not  less  narrowly  than  her 
friends,  with  a  prima  donna  elect  in  their  hands,  whom 
they  waited  impatiently  to  elevate  upon  her  vacant 
throne.  The  fact  of  her  uncertain  voice  was  hruited 
abroad,  and  day  after  day  they  proclaimed  to  the 
public  how  impossible  it  was  it  could  sustain  itself 
to  the  end  of  the  season.  But  the  end  of  the  season 
came,  and  Marie's  voice  did  not  fail  her,  and  her 
triumphant  partisans  clapped  their  hands  and  talked 
loud  of  the  brilliant  certainty  of  the  future. 

Before  the  commencement,  however,  of  her  second 
season,  Marie,  partly  with  the  determination  to  be 
free,  and  partly  blinded  by  inexperience  and  affection, 
married,  although  yet  scarcely  nineteen.  A  very 
short  time  sufficed  to  prove  that  she  had  only  diver- 
sified her  misfortunes,  not  by  any  means  removed 
them.  Her  husband  was  an  unprincipled  adventurer, 
who,  by  the  advantages  of  a  handsome  person,  good 
address,  and  real  or  skilfully  assumed  love  of  Marie's 
art,  had  manoeuvred  himself  into  her  affections.  Her 
affections,  however,  she  had  given  him,  and,  at  once 
boldly  asserting  herself  free,  she  tore  herself  from 
the  shackles  of  her  former  possessors,  and  threw  her- 
self on  the  protection  of  her  husband.  Alas !  this 
was  only  the  beginning  of  sorrows,  and  from  this 
time  forth  her  fate  was  sealed. 

The  second  season  came,  and  with  it  fervent  ex- 
pectation on  the  one  hand,  and  more  violent  opposition 
on  the  other.  But  who  can  tell  the  secret  despon- 
dency which  filled  her  heart  on  the  first  night  of 
that  fatal  second  season,  when  she  became  doubtful 
of  her  own  powers?  On  the  second  night  it  was 
impossible  for  her  to  present  herself,  for  her  voice 
was  gone ;  but  the  public  received  the  plea  of  sudden 
illness  with  the  sincerest  sympathy :  there  was  some 


14  A  GERMAN   PICTURE. 

little  consolation  in  that:  still,  night  after  night  went 
on,  and  Marie  could  not  sing.  The  new  prima  donna 
of  the  opposition  party  was  clamoured  into  popu- 
larity, and  poor  Marie's  assumed  illness  became  real. 
For  some  weeks  the  public  solicitude  kept  alive  its 
interest  in  her;  before  long,  however,  they  began  to 
suspect  that  the  servant  of  their  pleasure  was,  as 
rumour  said,  no  longer  capable  of  administering  to 
it;  and  it  became  necessary  that  she  herself  should 
give  the  best  of  all  refutations,  by  again  exhibiting 
unabated  powers  before  them.  Full  of  cruel  anxiety 
and  doubt,  and  but  half  recovered  from  sickness,. 
Marie  again  made  her  appearance  in  public ;  all  the 
world  crowded  to  hear  her;  but  the  suspicion  was 
true — she  could  not  sing;  the  once  glorious  voice 
had  lost  its  power.  The  public  exhibited  less  of 
sympathy  with  her  than  of  disappointment;  and,  with 
eyes  overflowing  with  tears,  and  a  heart  torn  with 
bitter  apprehensions,  she  had  the  mortification,  as 
she  left  the  house,  to  hear  her  rival  received  in  her 
stead  with  thunders  of  applause.  The  career  of  the 
poor,  dispirited  singer  was  at  an  end. 

Nothing  can  be  conceived  more  melancholy  than 
the  reaction  of  mind  on  the  loss  of  public  favour, 
under  any  circumstances ;  but  in  the  case  of  this  un- 
happy young  creature  it  was  doubly  so.  She  had 
not  lost  the  favour  of  the  public  through  any  crime 
or  caprice  of  her  own,  but  through  an  accumulation 
of  misfortunes  which  her  friendless,  unhappy  condition 
alone  had  brought  upon  her.  From  the  brilliant 
world  of  Vienna,  and  all  her  courtly  and  wealthy 
admirers,  she  sank  at  once  into  poverty  and  insig- 
nificance, and  found  herself  thus,  at  the  age  of  twenty, 
a  wife  and  a  mother,  with  no  earthly  means  of  sub- 
sistence but  her  own  exertions.  So  much  of  her  life 
was  well  known   to  all  the  music-loving  world  of 


A    HERMAN    PICTURE.  15 

thirty  years  ago.  The  unfortunate  singer  was  a  sub- 
ject of  conversation  for  a  few  months;  but,  as  she 
passed  from  the  public  eye,  she  passed  also  from 
the  public  heart,  and  was  forgotten. 

In  many  circumstances  of  human  life  the  very 
force  and  irresistibleness  of  misfortune  brings  its  own 
remedy.  So  it  is  probable  was  the  case  with  poor 
Marie.  Ten  years  afterwards,  she  was  recognised  by 
a  family  in  Leipzig  who  had  lived  formerly  in  Vienna. 
She  was  then  a  teacher  of  singing  by  the  hour,  having 
in  great  measure  recovered  her  voice,  and  being 
acknowledged  one  of  the  best  teachers  in  the  place, 
although  her  large  family,  her  indolent,  sickly  hus- 
band, and  her  own  feeble  health,  kept  her  always 
poor.  Ah!  it  was  unknown  and  unimagined,  in  the 
houses  of  the  wealthy  and  well-fed,'  when  the  thin, 
anxious  countenance  of  the  poor  singing-mistress 
made  its  appearance,  how  sparely  she  had  often 
dined ;  nor,  when  the  well-clothed  and  luxurious 
scorned  her  because  of  her  long-worn  and  homely 
apparel,  how  carefully  that  apparel  was  kept — was 
kept,  in  truth,  merely  to  go  abroad  in.  They  knew 
nothing  of  the  feeble  attempt  at  self-imposition,  by 
which  she  tried  to  think  that  the  gown  really  was  not 
quite  so  shabby  when  worn,  as  when  closely  inspected; 
that  such  and  such  a  fracture,  which  time  alone  had 
made,  might,  with  a  little  care,  be  kept  out  of  sight; 
or  that  the  bonnet  might  do  a  few  weeks  longer,  at 
least  with  new  strings ;  and  that,  after  all,  the  parents 
thought  more  of  the  progress  of  the  pupil  than  of  the 
dress  of  the  teacher;  and  that,  in  fact,  these  clothes 
must  do  longer,  inasmuch  as  she  could  not  afford  to 
buy  new  ones ! 

Poor  Marie!  and  thus  it  was,  that  as  she  became 
shabbier  in  her  appearance,  her  pupils  became  fewer 
and  fewer,  and  belonged  still  more  and  more  exclu- 


16  A  GERMAN  PICTURE. 

sively  to  the  burger  class ;  and  at  last,  spite  of  hei 
industry  and  her  determined  integrity,  poverty  again 
came  upon  her  like  an  armed  man ;  and  once  more, 
as  was  ever  the  case  in  her  darkest  times,  she  lost 
her  voice. 

Nearly  twenty  years  after  this,  about  the  time  at 
which  this  our  little  tale  opens,  Marie,  then  more  pro- 
perly to  be  called  Madam,  or  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser — 
for  her  husband,  however  unworthy,  was  of  a  noble  fa- 
mily— had  sunken  into  the  almost  old-looking  woman, 
although  in  truth  not  fifty  years  of  age,  and  had  then 
been  known  as  singing-mistress  in  Heidelberg  for 
about  four  years.  She  had  come  there  on  the  recom- 
mendation of  some  residents  of  influence,  to  whose 
family,  during  their  summer  stay  in  one  of  the  lessei 
bathing-towns,  she  had  given  singing  lessons.  She 
brought  with  her  an  extremely  infirm  husband;  her 
children — those  at  least  that  remained — were  scattered 
here  and  there,  and  she  was,  like  one  doomed  to  be 
unhappy,  wearing  at  that  very  time  momming  for  a 
son  who  had  been  killed  in  a  student-duel  at  Giessen. 
Poor  woman !  she  hardly  ever  could  meet  a  student, 
with  his  long  hair,  moustachoed  lip,  and  folio  under 
his  arm,  without  tears;  and  yet  she  came  to  live  in 
a  city  of  students — and  why?  because  she  had  an 
ailing,  helpless  husband  to  maintain,  and  because,  in 
this  city  of  students,  she  was  promised  the  influence 
of  a  family  which  might  amend  the  prospects  of  her 
future  life.  All  that  her  willingly-hopeful  mind 
prayed  for,  however,  did  not  immediately  fall  ojit; 
she  remained  poor :  still  that  occurred  to  her,  which 
for  many  years,  nay,  which  for  nearly  all  the  years 
of  her  life,  had  not  occurred  before — she  found  some 
disposed  to  become  her  personal  friends.  External 
show  operates  much  less  on  social  life  in  a  small 
city  than   in   a  rich   and  luxurious   one;   and  thus 


A  GERMAN   PICTURE.  17 

many1  a  wife  and  mistress  of  a  family  in  Heidelberg, 
many  hundred-fold  richer  than  the  poor  singing- 
mistress  ever  hoped  to  be,  might  be  seen  walking 
abroad  very  little  if  at  all  better  dressed  than  she; 
and,  to  her  surprise,  she  found  herself  now  and  then 
invited,  not  for  the  sake  of  her  singing  powers,  but 
out  of  perfect  good. fellowship  and  kindness,  to  join 
in  many  of  those  little  summer  excursions  which  the 
good  Germans  are  so  fond  of  making;  sometimes  to 
some  favourite  spot  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  and 
sometimes  to  the  castle  gardens,  where  the  ladies 
drank  tea  or  coffee,  the  gentlemen  wine,  or  perhaps 
beer;  the  ladies  knit  and  talked,  and  the  gentlemen 
smoked  and  talked  also ;  where  they  breathe  the  fresh 
air,  pay  their  few  kreutzers  each,  and  go  home  again 
refreshed  in  body  and  mind,  and  with  their  hearts 
warmed  with  good-will  towards  each  other. 

The  simple  fact  of  feeling  herseli  not  excluded 
from  the  more  respectable  part  of  society,  produced 
a  most  happy  effect  on  the  mind  of  the  poor  singing- 
mistress.  She  never  in  the  whole  course  of  her  life  had 
experienced  so  much  self-satisfaction,  so  much  quiet 
and  peace  of  mind,  as  during  these  latter  years;  and, 
had  it  not  been  for  still  lingering  anxieties  about  those 
absent  children  of  whom  she  said  so  little,  and  daily, 
never-ceasing  care  for  her  peevish  and  hopelessly  sick 
home-companion,  it  is  very  uncertain  whether  she 
would  not  have  pronounced  herself  really  happy. 

Among  the  kindest  and  best  esteemed  of  her  friends 
was  the  widow  Hoffmann,  whose  son  Karl,  himself  a 
good  musician,  and  devotedly  attached  to  the  art,  had 
first  heard  her  giving  singing-lessons  in  the  house  of 
one  of  his  friends,  but  whose  more  intimate  know- 
ledge of  her  was  gained  in  another  way.  At  the  house 
of  the  same  friend,  on  one  damp  November  morn- 
ing, her  voice  again  deserted  her:  he  happened  to 
c  2 


18  .  A  GERMAN  PICTURE. 

come  in  at  the  time,  and  the  poor  singing-mktresSt 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  explained  to  him  the  distress- 
ing calamity  which  had  befallen  her,  and  which,  thus 
at  the  commencement  of  winter,  filled  her  with  inex- 
pressible alarm.  Karl  was  a  medical  student,  and  at 
once,  independently  of  his  regard  for  her  on  account 
of  her  musical  powers,  became  interested  in  her  as  a 
sufferer  from  disease.  Cheered  Dy  his  kindly  sym- 
pathy, the  poor  woman  opened  to  him  her  heart ;  told 
him  of  her  discouraging  prospects,  of  her  poverty, 
and  thus  her  inability  to  pay  skilful  physicians.  Karl 
gave  his  medical  advice ;  he  was  young  and  sanguine, 
and  she  caught  at  once  the  happy  infection  of  his 
spirit,  and  persuaded  herself  that  he  could  do  her 
good ;  her  heart  was  cheered,  and  in  a  few  weeks, 
spite  of  a  severe  January,  she  was  able  to  resume  hex 
labours. 

In  his  capacity  of  medical  adviser,  he  was  admitted 
into  the  privacy  of  her  two  small  rooms — those  poor, 
ill-furnished  rooms,  into  which  none  entered  but  her- 
self, her  sick  husband — who  indeed  never  was  absent 
from  them- — and  those  even  poorer  than  themselves. 
Karl  was  familiar  with  the  dwellings  of  the  common 
poor,  and  he  knew  how  heart-rending  is  their  desti- 
tution, especially  in  sickness;  but  never  had  he  en- 
tered an  abode  of  even  absolute  want,  which  affected 
him  as  did  the  simple  aspect  of  these  two  rooms — the 
room  of  the  musician  without  the  instrument.  Mrs. 
Von  Holzhauser  seemed  immediately  to  divine  his 
thoughts.  "  You  wonder,"  said  she,  "  to  see  no 
instrument ;  but  it  is  long  since  I  had  pupils  at  home ; 
my  husband  could  not  bear  it;  I  have  long  ceased  to 
play  for  my  own  amusement:  besides,  I  have  not 
time,  for,  setting  aside  the  daily  lessons  I  give,  I 
copy  a  good  deal  of  music,"  said  she,  turning  towards 
a  small  table  where  she  had  evidently  but  lately  been 


A  GERMAN   PICTURE.  19 

so  employed.  "  It  comes  cheaper  than  the  printed 
notes,  and  many  of  i#y  pupils  prefer  it  on  this 
account."  Hoffmann  did  not  know  at  that  time  that 
many  hours  were  stolen  from  sleep,  to  add,  by  this 
means,  some  little  to  the  daily  income.  How  much 
patient  striving  against  poverty  and  misfortune  is 
there  in  this  world,  of  which  the  next-door  neighbour 
knows  nothing! 

The  more  Hoffmann  saw  of  this  praiseworthy  woman, 
the  higher  rose  his  esteem  for  her.  He  prescribed 
for  her  ailments,  and  for  those  of  her  husband;  he 
talked  cheerfully  to  the  ill-tempered  invalid,  and 
accomplished  in  his  case  what  his  wife  had  believed 
totally  impossible;  he  induced  him  now  and  then  to 
leave  his  room,  to  look  more  cheerfully  on  life,  to 
acknowledge  that  his  wife  did  all  that  lay  in  her 
power  for  his  comfortable  maintenance,  and  even  to 
make  a  half-promise  that  some  time  or  other,  at  least 
if  he  got  better,  he  would  himself  copy  music. 

By  degrees  the  two  rooms,  if  they  were  not  better 
furnished,  assumed  a  more  cheerful  aspect.  A  con- 
tented countenance  contributes  more  to  the  cheerful 
aspect  of  a  room  than  the  finest  furniture ;  and  thus, 
although  the  large,  ill-dressed  person  of  the  Herr  Von 
Holzhauser  might  be  often  seen  half  obtruded  through 
the  small  third-story  window,  with  his  long  pipe  in 
his  mouth,  yet  he  was  not  now  always  looking  down, 
as  though  in  ill-humour  with  all  the  world  below. 

Things  evidently  were  mending  with  the  Von 
HolzhJiusers ;  their  health  improved,  more  money 
came  in,  and  a  better  moral  tone  pervaded  the  mind 
both  of  husband  and  wife ;  nor  did  a  day  pass  in 
which  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser  failed  to  breathe  in- 
wardly, if  it  was  not  expressed  aloud,  a  blessing  on 
the  excellent  young  man  who,  not  only  by  the  exer- 
cise of  his  skill  as  a  physician,  but  by  the  high  moral 


20  A  GERMAN   PICTURE. 

tone  of  his  own  nature,  wrought  so  wholesome  -yet  so 
silent  a  change.  Her  health  was  hetter  than  it  had 
been  for  years;  and  in  the  bright  days  of  the  June  of 
which  we  are  now  writing,  she  might  be  seen,  when 
extraordinary  occasions  called  for  so  much  display, 
dressed  in  a  real  new  gown,  real  new  black  silk 
mode,  and  a  bonnet  but  little  the  worse  for  wear. 
It  was  thus  apparelled  that,  after  having  knocked 
twice  at  the  widow  Hoffmann's  door,  she  entered  the 
room,  interrupting,  as  we  said  a  few  pages  before, 
reminiscences  which  were  likely  to  become  somewhat 
too  gloomy. 

Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser  seated  herself  on  the  sofa  by 
her  friend ;  and,  after  many  inquiries  as  to  each  other's 
health,  and  mutual  assurances  that  it  gave  them  great 
pleasure  to  know  that  each  was  so  well,  Mrs.  Hoff- 
mann went  on  with  her  knitting,  talking  cheerfully  all 
the  time.  When  all  available  topics  of  personal  in- 
terest had  been  gone  through,  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser 
went  on  to  say,  that  .she  had  been  sent  for  this 
morning  by  the  English  lady,  who  lived  in  the  second 
story,  and  who  wished  her  to  give  singing-lessons 
to  her  daughter. 

"  And  a  very  pretty  girl  that  is,"  said  Mrs.  Hoff- 
mann; "I  have  met  her  on  the  stairs  occasionally, 
and  have  seen  her  frequently,  these  warm  evenings,  in 
the  balcony  below.     The  mother  I  have  not  seen." 

"  She  appears  to  be  in  very  weak  health,"  said 
Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser;  "she  lay  on  the  sofa,  sup- 
ported by  cushions,  and  wrapped  in  large  shawls, 
although  the  weather  is  now  so  warm." 

"  Poor  creature!"  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann. 

"  She  said,"  continued  the  other,  "  that  she  had 
been  at  the  baths  last  autumn,  on  account  of  her 
health,  having  left  England  for  that  purpose;  that 
they  had   spent  the  winter  in   Mlinchen,   and  had 


A  GERMAN  PICTURE.  21 

intended  this  summer  to  return  to  England,  but  had 
altered  their  plans  in  consequence  of  some  rich  rela- 
tions, or  acquaintance,  I  forget  which,  who  had  pro- 
mised to  spend  some  time  with  them  in  Heidelberg, 
if  they  could  obtain  for  them  sufficiently  handsome 
apartments." 

"  So !"  remarked  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  with  very  ex- 
pressive emphasis. 

"  Her  daughter,  she  says,"  continued  Mrs  Von 
Holzhauser,  "  is  so  charmed  with  the  neighbourhood, 
and  with  the  castle,  that  she  wishes  to  remain  here 
six  months,  which  she  has  consented  to  do,  especially 
as  she  has  taken  the  whole  suite  of  apartments  below 
for  that  time,  for  this  great  English  family,  who 
spend,  she  assures  me,  their  money  like  princes." 

"  I  wish  such  English  people  would  not  come  here," 
said  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  in  a  tone  of  undisguised  disgust; 
"  they  do  us  great  mischief.  We  might  as  well  have 
an  army  o'f  French,  laying  waste  and  despoiling  our 
houses  and  vineyards,  as  these  troops  of  frivolous, 
money-loving,  money-wasting  English.  Germany, 
dear,  home-loving  Germany,  has  more  deep  and  grave 
cause  of  fear  from  these  smiling,  flattering,  yet 
deriding  visiters,  than  from  a  whole  nation  of  French- 
men with  arms  in  their  hands  !" 

"  You  do  not  like  the  English,"  quietly  remarked 
her  visiter. 

11  I  do  not  like  the  English  as  we  see  them  in 
Germany,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann ;  "  they  love  dissi- 
pation more  than  enjoyment;  they  value  money  not 
for  the  good  it  will  do,  but  for  the  show  it  will  make ; 
they  think  to  pass  here  for  princes,  and  they  only 
make  themselves  the  laughing-stock  of  our  people ; 
and  yet  even  upon  those  very  people  their  moral 
influence  is  bad.  You  are  right;  I  do  not  like  the 
English!" 


22  .  A  GERMAN  PICTURE. 

"  I  cannot  afford,"  said  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser,  "  to 
dislike  the  English,  whatever  their  faults  may  be,  so 
long  as  they  pay  me.  It  is  true  that  I  have  given 
singing-lessons  but  in  very  few  English  families. 
They  like,  as  you  say,  to  pay  high  prices — they  can 
afford  it;  but  my  misfortunes,"  added  she,  with  a 
sigh,  "  have  ever  prevented  me  having  high  prices." 

"  Get  what  you  can  from  the  English,"  said  her 
friend,  smiling,  "  since  they  are  so  fond  of  what  is 
dear ;  they  will  like  you  all  the  better  for  it,  and  I 
wish  you  a  hundred  such  pupils!" 

"  But  this  English  lady  below,"  replied  Mrs.  Von 
Holzhauser,  "  is  not,  after  all,  one  of  the  class  you 
speak  of.  She  inquired  my  terms  strictly — appeared 
to  like  them  better  for  their  moderation — made  me 
sit  down  and  give  her  proof  of  my  ability  to  teach. 
I  had  to  sing  Italian,  French,  and  German,  before  she 
maue  up  her  mind  even  to  my  moderate  terms." 

"  Dear  Heaven!"  exclaimed  the  other,  in  her  old 
tone  of  disgust. 

"  There  was  nothing  so  unreasonable  in  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser,  with  a  sigh ;  "  the  young  lady 
offered  me  wine,  but  it  is  too  hot  for  wine,  so  I 
accepted  a  glass  of  water.  She  speaks  excellent 
German ;  the  mother  spoke  French ;  and,  after  all,  I 
came  away  by  no  means  displeased;  and  to-morrow 
morning  from  eleven  to  twelve  I  give  my  first  lesson. 
But  now,"  resumed  she,  after  a  pause,  "  I  want  to 
know  something  about  Karl.  When  will  this  exami- 
nation be  over ;  and  what  tidings  have  you  from  him  ?" 

Mrs.  Hoffmann  laid  down  her  knitting,  which 
through  the  whole  of  the  previous  conversation  she 
had  pursued  with  most  persevering  assiduity,  and  at 
once  began  to  look  anxious  and  deeply  interested. 
"  I  shall  have  a  letter  to-morrow :  the  examination 
will  be  over  by  that  time.     T  shall  now  have  him 


A  GERMAN  PICTURE.  23 

back  in  a  few  days.  Poor  Karl,  it  is  a  mercy  be  has 
kept  his  health." 

"  How  happy  he  will  be !  how  happy  you  will  be !" 
said  poor  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser,  reverting  with  pain- 
ful remembrance  to  her  own  unhappy  son.  At  that 
very  moment  the  door  of  the  room  suddenly  opened, 
and  the  little  Bena,  looking  very  hot  and  happy,  pre- 
sented herself  and  a  letter  at  the  same  moment. 

"  It  is  a  letter  from  Carlsruhe,"  said  she ;  "  I  knew 
you  would  like  to  hear  it.  1  told  them  at  home  that 
I  would  be  back  in  no  time ;  but  the  letter  is  from 
the  Herr  Karl!" 

"  Thou  art  a  good  girl!"  said  har  mistress — using, 
in  the  fulness  of  her  joy  in  seeing  her  son's  hand- 
writing a  day  before  she  expected,  the  kindest  of  all 
modes  of  speech  to  her  handmaiden — "  thou  art  a 
good  girl,  Bena;  now  run  away  to  thy  lame  brother:" 
and  the  next  moment,  breaking  the  seal,  she  read 
aloud — 

"  Dear  Mother — Thou  must  know — for  to  whom  will  the 
tidings  be  so  welcome  as  to  thee? — that  my  examination  will  be 
over  to-night.     Thy  son,  even,  is  satisfied  with  himself. 

"  Von  Rosenberg  and  Feldmann  will  meet  me  at  Wiesloch. 
To-morrow  evening  I  shall  again  be  with  thee.     Thine,  ever, 
"  Hermann  Karl  Hoffmann." 

"  Your  tidings  are  indeed  happy!"  said  the  poor 
singing-mistress,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

There  were  tears  also  in  the  eyes  of  her  friend — 
tears-  of  affection  and  happiness.  "  Thank  Heaven !" 
said  she,  Karl's  examination  is  over ;  he  will  be  back 
again  to-morrow:  but  stay,"  added  she,  looking 
again  at  the  letter,  "  he  will  be  here  to-night;  this 
letter  was  written  yesterday ;  he  will  be  here  imme- 
diately.    Tbank  God,  I  am  indeed  happy  !" 

She  spoke  truly.  She  was  at  that  moment  really 
and  thoroughly  happy.     Life  had  then  no  troubles-^ 


24  A  GERMAN  PICTURE- 

no  dark  side — no  mournful  anniversaries!  Hei  sons 
her  only  lemaining  child  —  the  sole  object  of  her 
affections  and  her  life's  cares — her  pride,  her  glory, 
her  hope,  was  returning  to  her  with  honour,  after  a 
severe  states  examination.  She  always  expected  it 
would  he  so,  for  Karl  was,  as  everybody  knew,  so 
good,  so  clever,  so  successful  in  all  that  he  did ;  still 
this  certainty,  this  security,  now  all  was  over,  seemed 
so  much  beyond  the  joy  that  she  imagined,  that  it 
was  no  wonder  she  wiped  her  eyes  before  she  was 
able  to  talk  about  her  happiness ;  and  then  all  at  once 
a  world  of  housekeeping  cares  overwhelmed  her.  He 
was  coming  back  that  very  evening,  and  with  him 
his  two  friends ;  where,  then,  was  the  fatted  calf  that 
ought  to  have  been  made  ready  in  honour  of  such  a 
guest?  and  where  was  that  giddy  little  Bena,  that 
happened  to  be  now  out  of  the  way  just  when  she 
was  wanted?  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  hastily  giving  her 
friend  a  hint  of  her  instant  perplexity,  projected  her 
head  through  the  open  casement,  to  see  if,  by  good 
chance,  the  girl  had  met  with  a  gossip  in  the  street 
below.  But  no,  the  street  was  full  of  people,  old 
and  young,  students  and  shopkeepers,  ladies  and 
children,  and  maid-servants  in  plenty,  but  the  neat 
little  Bena,  in  her  blue  dress  and  pink  neckerchief, 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen;  so  the  good  woman  drew 
herself  back  with  the  wise  determination,  that  since 
there  was  nobody  at  home  to  do  anything  for  her, 
she  must  do  all  for  herself;  therefore,  requesting  her 
visiter,  who  rose  to  depart,  with  warm  congratulations 
on  her  lips,  to  send  in  from  the  baker,  as  she  went 
by,  a  fresh  supply  of  white  and  brown  bread,  and  still 
farther,  to  speed  a  message  from  the  said  baker's  to 
Bena,  with  orders  for  her  quick  return,  she  gave 
herself  up  to  the  preparation  of  a  hasty,  but  by  nc 
means  a  scanty  supper. 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  25 

Good  Mrs.  Hoffmann!  she  might  have  been  seen 
enveloped  in  a  large  apron,  busied  in  her  little  kitchen, 
whose  stove  she  speedily  set  alight,  amid  a  variety  of 
odd,  little,  old-fashioned,  three-legged  pots,  and  the 
most  grotesque  earthen  pipkins  and  p»,ns,  preparing 
those  particular  dishes  which  she  knew  her  son  most 
enjoyed,  and  which,  in  her  German  housewifely 
knowledge,  she  thought  best  suited  to  the  occasion; 
thinking,  every  now  and  then,  with  a  self-reproving 
mind,  that  perhaps  she  had  dismissed  poor  Mrs.  Von 
Holzhauser  with  very  little  ceremony,  but  that  she 
must  be  excused  for  the  occasion's  sake,  and  also  that 
ample  amends  shoifld  be  made  to  her  before  long. 

Whilst  the  kind-hearted  German  mother  is,  there- 
fore, busied  in  her  affectionate  cares  up  in  the  third 
story,  let  us  descend  one  story  lower,  and  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  English  mother  and  daughter,  of 
whom  our  poor  singing-mistress  has  already  spoken. 
We  must  see  them,  for  they  will  be  no  inconsiderable 
actors  in  this  our  little  storv. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FIRST      GLIMPSES. 

It  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  fine  balmy  sunny  evening, 
at  the  beginning  of  June — one  of  the  loveliest  evenings 
of  an  unusually  lovely  season.  The  varied  tints  of 
the  vernal  green  had  not  yet  sobered  down  into  the 
monotonous  hue  of  the  later  summer.  The  dark 
green  pine  woods  yet  shone  out  conspicuously  above 
the  clear  green  of  the  vineyards,  and  the  delicate 
green  of  the'  birches.  The  Neckar,  the  loveliest  of 
rivers,  went  flowing  on,  making  low  music  over  its 
waves,  and,  amid  its  half-sunken  rocks,  looking  itself 
like  liquid  emerald.  The  noble  ruins  of  the  castle 
3 


26  FIRST  GLIMPSES. 

were  tinted  with  the  golden  light  of  the  declining  sun, 
and  that  sun  itself  was  flooding  the  whole  plain  with 
a  dazzling  glory,  glittering  upon  the  winding  course 
of  the  noble  Rhine,  and  making  the  sweeping  outline 
of  the  distant  Hardt  mountains  distinctly  visible. 

To  have  seen  that  evening,  in  the  little  city  and 
its  immediate  environs,  the  crowds  of  people  who 
were  leisurely  passing  along  in  all  directions,  it  might 
have  been  supposed  that  all  its  inhabitants,  moved  by 
one  impulse,  were  abroad;  but  the  sound  of  music, 
which  issued  from  many  an  open  casement,  or  from 
behind  the  closed  Venetian  shutters  of  many  a  window 
upon  which  the  sun  yet  shone,  told  that  still  some 
remained  at  home,  and  that,  probably,  youth  and  even 
beauty  might  be  found  within  four  walls,  even  on  an 
evening  like  this.  Such  was  the  case,  as  many  a  one 
that  evening  passed  the  house  of  which  the  English 
lady  and  daughter  were  inmates.  Their  rooms,  of 
course — they  being  English — were  on  the  second  or 
principal  floor.  Their  sitting-room  opened  into  a 
balcony,  into  which,  within  the  last  few  weeks,  a 
quantity  of  well-grown  oleanders,  roses,  and  myrtles, 
had  been  placed,  giving  an  air  of  taste  and  elegance 
both  to  within  and  without.  The  windows  were 
diaperied  and  curtained  with  white  muslin,  the  case- 
ments were  thrown  wide,  and  the  passer-by,  if  he 
were  not  arrested  for  a  second  or  two,  at  least  relaxed 
in  his  speed  as  he  went  by,  to  listen  to  a  voice  of 
unusual  power  and  sweetness,  which  was  heard  within 
singing,  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  harp,  some  of  the 
most  popular  German  songs. 

"  It  is  the  young  Englanderin,"  said  the  passers 
by ;  "  she  and  her  mother  have  been  here  a  few 
weeks;  she  is  very  handsome." 

"  So  ! "  exclaimed  the  other  German — man  or 
woman,  whichever  it  might  be — hoping  that  the  same 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  27 

rich  voice  and  sweet  music  might  thus  greet  them  in 
the  words  of  their  favourite  songs,  as  they  returned. 
Within  this  airy  and  pleasant  room,  which  withal 
had  an  airiness  and  pleasantness  very  un-English  in 
its  character,  sate  the  two  ladies,  who  could  not  for 
half  a  second  have  been  mistaken  for  anything  but 
English,  although  the  younger  had  been  singing  Ger- 
man songs  for  the  last  hour,  and  the  elder  had  made 
all  the  passing  observations  during  that  time  in  French. 
These  two  were  a  Mrs.  Palmer  and  her  daughter 
Caroline,  or,  as  she  was  mostly  called  by  her  mother, 
Lina. 

Mrs.  Palmer,  a  middle-aged,  slenderly-formed  lady, 
was  reclining  still  on  the  sofa,  still  supported  by 
cushions,  and  still  enveloped  in  large  shawls,  as  when 
Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser  had  seen  her.  She  had  the  air 
of  one  suffering  between  indolence  and  indisposition. 
An  open  letter  was  in  her  hand,  at  which  she  glanced 
from  time  to  time,  although  she  knew  very  perfectly 
every  word  it  contained. 

"  Well,  love,"  said  she  to  her  daughter,  "  I  think 
you  have  practised  enough  for  once.  I  am  sorry  to 
keep  you  in  on  such  a  fine  evening,  but,  spite  of  this 
agreeable  letter,  I  am  not  able  to  walk  to-night." 

"  You  are  not  worse,  I  hope,  dear  mother,"  said 
Caroline. 

"  So  love,  no,"  replied  she,  •'  but  the  letter  excited 
me,  and  I  always  suffer  from  excitement." 

M  But  they  are  really  coming  now,"  said  her 
daughter;  *'  and,  as  it  is  all  so  comfortably  arranged 
about  the  rooms,  there  need  be  no  more  vexation 
about  it.  Seven  rooms  all  upon  this  floor,  and  three 
of  them  so  handsome — they  must  be  satisfied;  and, 
even  if  they  are  expensive,  that  matters  nothing." 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  mother,  turning  again 
to  the  letter,  "  the  Wilkinsons  never  think  of  mono/ 


28  FIRST  GLIMPSES. 

tnese  are  her  own  words,  '  We  must  have  from  seven 
to  ten  rooms' — now,  there  are  seven  rooms  here,  and 
very  good  sized  too — '  the  style  and  rent  of  which  we 
leave  entirely  to  you.  You  know,  however,  what  we 
have  always  been  used  to.  Mr.  W.  cannot  bear  a 
low  room,  and  I  love  one  in  which  my  friends  can  be 
seen  to  advantage.'" 

"  I  can  fancy  I  hear  Mrs.  Wilkinson  saying  that," 
said  Caroline,  interrupting  her  mother,  and  smiling. 

"'This  is  of  more  importance,'"  continued  Mrs. 
Palmer,  still  reading  from  the  letter,  " '  than  the  value 
of  a  few  pounds.  A  few  hundreds  more  or  less  make 
but  little  difference  at  the  year's  end.'  She  always 
was  so  generous !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer,  with 
enthusiasm. 

"  The  truth  is,  mamma,"  said  Caroline,  laughing, 
"  she  never  knew  the  want  of  money." 

"  '  But,'  "  continued  the  mother,  reading  again  from 
the  letter,  "  '  one  thing  is  indispensable — our  lodgings 
must  be  near  yours.  I  wish  you  to  be  with  us  every 
day,  and  all  day  long.  We  are  tired  of  the  gaieties 
of  this  place,  and  we  want  to  ruralize  in  good  com- 
pany. Arthur  Burnett,  as  I  think  I  told  you  in  my 
last,  joins  us  in  Switzerland,  so  that  he  will  be  with 
us  during  our  entire  stay  in  Germany,  and  will  make 
us  much  better  worth  entertaining  while  with  you. 
I  hear  great  things  of  Caroline's  beauty.  Yo#must 
take  care  that,  her  complexion  is  not  ruined  by  the 
horrid  German  ,stoves.  A  German  winter,  in  fact,  is 
the  destruction  of  female  beauty.'  I  wonder  whether 
that  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  abruptly  laying  down 
•  the  letter,  and  raising  herself  on  hercushion — "it  is 
a  shocking  thing  if  it  be ;  and,  now  I  think  of  it,  it 
may  be  so,  for  one  never  sees  a  handsome  woman  of 
thirty  in  Germany,  while  in  England,  on  the  con- 
trary, women  improve  every  year,  often  till  they  are 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  29 

forty — at  least  if  they   grow   stout  at  that  age.  •  I 
shall  begin  to  hate  Germany!" 

"  Well,  at  all  events,  dear  mother,"  said  her 
daughter,  "  it  is  not  -winter  now,  and  I  will  endea- 
vour, I  promise  you,  to  look  my  very  best  when  the 
Wilkinsons  are  here,  if  that  will  only  keep  you  in 
good  humour  with  Germany." 

"  O  yes,  love,"  replied  the  mother;  "  so  that  yots 
really  do  not  suffer  by  these  terrible  stoves,  I  am 
satisfied.  Germany  suits  me,  in  many  respects,  better 
than  England;  and  if  we  can  remain  in  this  place, 
which  is  moderately  cheap,  and  contrive  to  have  a 
little  gaiety  while  the  Wilkinsons  are  here,  which  I 
am  sure  we  may,  for  they  love  it  dearly,  never  think 
of  expense,  but  do  everything  so  nobly !  and  if  you 
can  only  go  on  with  your  music  here,  why,  then,  I 
say  Germany  suits  me  infinitely  better  than  England. 
In  England  we  could  make  no  figure  with  our  income ; 
and  as  the  Wilkinsons  are  so  much  on  the  continent, 
that  is  another  reason;  and  one  must  confess  that  we 
have  everywhere  associated  with  the  most  distin- 
guished English.  You  have  been  always  very  for- 
tunate. You  remember  all  the  kindness  of  Sir  James 
and  Lady  Ashburn,  and  how  gay  we  might  have  been 
all  the  time  at  Baden;  and  all  that  cost  no  more 
than  a  handsome  dress,  which  is  no  more  than  one 
owes  to  one's  self.  No,  dear  girl,  you  need  not  fear 
my  being  dissatisfied  with  Germany ;  all  I  want  is  to 
economize  for  the  next  six  months.  I  care  nothing 
for  these  middling  people :  and  then  wc  will  go  for  the 
next  twelve,  at  all  events  for  the  winter,  to  Dresden 
or  Vienna." 

"  And  perhaps,"  suggested  Caroline,  "  we  can  per- 
suade the  Wilkinsons  to  go  there  too." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  her  mother,  turning  again  to 
the  letter;  "what  do  they  say  about  this  rich  Mr 
Burnett  ?" 


30  FIRST  GLIMPSES. 

"  That  he  joins  them  in  Switzerland,"  said  the 
daughter,  to  whom  the  letter  had  already  heen  twice 
read,  "  and  that  he  will  help  to  entertain  us  all  here." 

"  That  he  will  remain  with  them  during  their  entire 
stay  in  Germany,"  said  the  mother ;  "  if,  therefore, 
■we,"  continued  she,  "  find  him  as  agreeable  as  he 
ought  to  be  with  his  good  income,  I  give  you  leave 
to  use  all  your  influence  to  persuade  them  to  pass  the 
winter  where  we  do — or  rather,"  said  .she,  speaking 
out  the  real  truth,  "  we  will  be  guided  in  our  futuie 
movements  by  theirs." 

Tea  was  now  brought  in  by  their  rosy-faced,  stout, 
German  maid;  for,  although  Mrs.  Palmer  wished, 
unquestionably,  to  pass  for  an  Englishwoman  of 
some  consideration,  and  as  yet  held  in  contempt  the 
widow  Hoffmann,  whose  rooms,  in  the  third  floor, 
were  directly  over  her  head,  she  also  kept  no  more 
than  one  servant,  and  that  one  not  a  smart-dressed, 
capped  and  bonnetted,  and  expensive  English  ser- 
vant, but  a  hard-working,  strong-built,  and  hard- 
handed  German  girl,  who  submitted  to  be  scolded  by 
her  mistress  in  bad  German,  on  consideration  of  six 
pounds  a  year  wages.  As  to  the  dinners  which  Mrs. 
Palmer  and  her  daughter  eat,  it  must  not  be  supposed 
for  a  moment  that  they  satisfied  themselves  with  thin 
soup,  lean  beef  and  sour  krout,  and  noodles,  01 
dumplings  of  half  a  dozen  different  kinds — in  the  pre- 
paring of  which  consisted  the^sole  cooking  skill  of 
Gretchen,  their  maid;  no,  the  ladies  were  duly  and 
daily  supplied  with  the  very  best  which  the  best 
table  d'hote  of  the  place  afforded.  "  This,"  said  Mrs. 
Palmer,  many  a  time,  "  reconciles  me  to  Germany; 
how  otherwise  could  an  English  lady  exist  here  ? 
Their  common  dishes  are  an  abomination  to  me :  the 
Germans  want  refinement,  everybody  must  confess ; 
think  only  of  their  undisguised,  barbarous  names  for 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  31 

things — for  the  very  meat  which  one  eats— to  talk 
of  eating  Jteshf  No,  indeed,  unless  I  could  have 
French  or  English  cooking  I  must  leave  Germany  !" 
Gretchen,  therefore,  found,  after  all,  her  place  not 
to  he  despised.  She,  like  every  German  girl,  was 
skilled  in  plaiting  and  arranging  the  hair,  and  this 
was  the  sole  duty  she  Vad  to  perform  for  her  young 
mistress,  "  die  Fraulein  Lina,"  for  whose  heauty  and 
excellent  German  she  had  the  highest  admiration  ; 
ana  many  and  many  were  the  five  minutes  which  she 
and  the  little  Bena,  from  the  third  floor,  gossiped 
together  over  the  goings  on  of  the  two  families,  anil 
in  comparing  the  respective  particulars  in  which  Eng- 
lish and  German  ladies  resembled  and  differed  from 
each  other.  But,  as  we  said  before,  tea  being  brought 
in,  Caroline  sat  down  to  the  tea-table,  which"  stood 
before  the  sofa  on  which  her  mother  reclined. 

"  And  now,  Lina,  dear,"  her  mother  began — whose 
thoughts  had  all  this  time  been  busied  on  important 
matters  of  economy  and  display — "  you  must  wear 
your  older  dresses,  for  the  present;  at  least,  I  mean 
till  the  Wilkinsons  come,  which  will  not  be  long ; 
and  keep  your  new  Paris  bonnet  till  then  ;  you  will 
go  out  a  great  deal  in  the  carriage  with  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son, and  you  must  be  well  dressed.  I  am  glad  we 
got  these  singing  lessons  so  cheap — and  really  how 
charmingly  she  sings !" 

"  Poor  lady  !"  said  Caroline,  with  a  sigh;  "  I  know 
not  what  it  was,  but  there  was  something  to  me  quite 
affecting  about  her." 

"  She  looks  in  bad  health,"  said  the  mother  ;  "  on 
the  stage  she  would  be  rouged,  and  dressed  up,  and 
look  quite  differently :  those  sort  of  people  always 
look  haggard  and  miserable." 

"  She  does  not  sing  in  public  now,"  said  Caroline , 
"  she  has  not  sung  in  public  for  these  five-and-twenty 
vears  " 


32  FIRST  GLIMPSES. 

"My  deai  child!"  remonstrated  the  mother,  "did 
I  not  ask  her  about  what  we  heard  of  Goethe's 
admiration  of  her — and  the  diamond  ring?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  daughter,  "and  did  you  not 
observe  the  painful  expression  of  her  countenance? 
I  am  sure  it  is  painful  for  her  to  remember  those 
times.  J  was  sorry  you  spoke  of  it :  but  what  a 
beautiful  voice  she  has !  I  must  sing  that  sweet  song 
from  Otello  with  her  to-morrow  ! — I  never  heard  a 
sweeter  voice  in  my  life  !" 

"  Well,  love,"  replied  her  mother,  "I  hope  you 
will  profit  by  it.  You  may  have  three  lessons  a  week, 
if  you  like  it,  for  they  are  cheap  enough — at  least  till 
the  Wilkinsons  come.  And  I  am  sure,"  continued 
she,  after  a  pause,  "we  ought  to  think  it  a  great 
compliment  to  us,  that  the  Wilkinsons  come  here,  to 
a  little  quiet,  stupid  place  like  this,  when  they  might 
live  in  any  city  whatever  in  Germany,  or  Italy,  or  in 
Paris  itself;    for  money  is  nothing  to  them." 

"  But,"  said  Caroline,  "  they  are  tired,  they  say, 
of  gaiety,  and  wish  to  ruralize ;  and  I  am  sure 
nothing  can  be  more  charming  for  those  who  would 
enjoy  beautiful  scenery,  and  quiet  country  excursions, 
than  this  lovely  neighbourhood ;  and  the  Wilkinsons, 
you  must  remember,  have  never  been  here:  every 
scene  will  be  new  to  them.  But  there  is  one  thing 
which  I  must  confess  astonishes  me,  how  an  active, 
scheming,  money-making  man,  whose  head  is  always 
occupied  by  joint-stock  banks,  and  joint-stock  min- 
ing companies,  should  think  not  merely  of  coming  to 
a  place  like  this,  but  of  stopping  here  six  whole 
months !" 

"  1  dare  say  he  will  not  be  here  all  the  time,"  said 
the  mother;  "  he  is  here,  and  there,  and  everywhere, 
in  no  time.  Don't  you  remember  his  travelling  post 
from  Rome  at  a  minute's  warning,  and  again,  only 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  33 

this  very  "spring,  from  Florence  ?  and  now,  you  see, 
he  is  with  them  again ;  and  yet  I  should  not  at  all 
wonder  if  urgent  business  do  not  carry  him  off  to 
England  before  they  get  here." 

"  And  then,"  said  Caroline,  "  their  coming  here 
will  be  again  deferred." 

41  Oh,  no !  I  should  think  not,"  returned  her 
mother;  "  Mr.  Burnett  joins  them  in  Switzerland ;  and 
it  is  my  opinion  that  this  time  they  will  really  come." 

"  At  all  events,  the  rooms  are  ready  for  them,"  said 
the  daughter. 

"  But,  dear  me  !  what  carriage  is  that  that  has  this 
moment  stopped  ?"  exclaimed  the  mother  ;  "  surely 
it  cannot  be  they;  look  out  Lina,  dear." 

She  rose  to  the  window,  and,  quietly  closing  the 
easement,  that  her  observation  might  be  less  obvious 
from  without,  replied,  turning  quietly  again  from  the 
window,  "  Oh,  no,  certainly  !  only  some  students — 
three  young  men ;  two  of  them  I  met  on  the  stairs 
the  other  day;  they  look  perfectly  wild — perfectly 
overflowing  with  animal  spirits,  and  are  giving  a  most 
cordial  cheer  to  somebody  at  the  window  above;" 
and,  feeling  hei*self  liable  to  observation,  she  withdrew 
quite  from  the  window,  and  sat  down  again  by  the 
tea-table. 

"  Blesf  me,  what  a  noisy  set !"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Palmer,  as  she  heard  the  three  mount  up  the  general 
staircase,  two  steps  at  a  time,  and,  with  loud  laughter 
and  merry  voices,  pass  the  very  door  of  the  room 
where  she  and  her  daughter  were  sitting.  Up  stairs 
went  the  six  noisy  feet,  and  into  the  very  room  over 
Mrs.  Palmer's  head.  The  room  in  which  she  was 
sitting  was  a  lofty  one,  and  the  house  was  well  built; 
but  the  entrance  of  Kait  Hoffmann  and  his  two  friends 
into  the  widow's  uncarpetted  room,  made  itself  dis- 
tinctly audible  to  those  who  were  below. 


34  FIRST  GLIMIJSES. 

' "  Surely  students  do  not  lodge  in  this  house  !" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  for  that  is  what  neither  I 
nor  Mrs. Wilkinson  could  endure!" 

"  No,"  said  Caroline,  "  it  is  only  the  son  of  a  Mrs. 
Hoffmann,  who  lives  on  the  third  floor,  returned  from 
his  examination.  Gretchen,  who  dearly  loves  to  tell 
all  the  news,  told  me  to-day,  while  dressing  my  hair, 
that  he  was  coming  in  a  day  or  two.  According  to  her 
account  he  is  wonderfully  handsome,  and  so  clever,  and 
excellent,  that  I  have  a  vast  curiosity  about  him." 

"  They  are  a  sad  noisy  set,"  remarked  the  mother, 
as  again  sounds,  by  no  means  gentle,  were  heard 
above.  "  One  might  as  well  have  the  old  woman 
spinning  overhead,  like  poor  Mrs.  Barrow,  at  Miin- 
chen,  as  all  this  riot." 

"  By  the  bye,"  said  Caroline  laughing,  "  Gretchen 
says  a  great  deal  about  Mrs.  Hoffmann's  spinning ; 
she  spins  all  winter,  and  knits  all  summer." 

"  Again !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer,  who  was  getting 
very  nervous.  "I  never  heard  such  a  disturbance; 
what  in  the  world  are  they  doing  ?" 

Cai'oline  laughed  aloud.  "  They  are  all  drawing 
their  chairs  to  the  table  ;  one  hears  everything  so 
plainly  on  the  bare  floor.  I  am  sure  they  are  happier 
than  common  mortals  to-night !  The  mother  is  a 
widow;  she  and  I  always  exchange  greetings  on  the 
staircase ;  she  is  a  thorough  German,  though,  and  this 
son,  Gretchen  says,  is  everything  that  a  widow's  son 
ought  to  be.  I  cannot  help  being  interested  in  his 
arrival.  Don't  you  remember  that  sweet  poem  of 
Chamisso's  ?"  and  she  repeated,  in  the  original  Ger- 
man, what  we  will  give  in  English. 

"  See,  father,  see  ! — a  letter  !    The  student  days  are  done ; 
They  have  created  doctor,  with  high  applause,  thy  son ! 
By  the  next  post,  so  writes  he,  he  will  be  here  to  dines 
Fetoh,  mother,  from  the  cellar,  the  latest  flask  of  wine ! " 


FIRST  GMMTSES.  .55 

"  And  now  he  is  come,"  said  she,  with  heightened 
colour,  and  glistening  eyes  ;  "  and  how  gladly  would  I 
sit  down  with  that  proud  and  happy  mother,  up  stairs, 
even  to  a  supper  of  sliced  sausage,  brown  bread,  and 
potato  salad,  could  I  only  witness  the  pleasure  beam- 
ing in  their  faces,  and  which,  after  all,  is  but  a  faint 
image  of  the  pleasure  of  their  hearts  !" 

"  What  a  silly  girl  you  are  !"  said  the  mother, 
smiling  nevertheless;  for  the  earnestness  and  sincerity 
with  which  her  daughter  spoke  made  her  look  really 
beautiful.  "But  I  assure  you,  that" however  enthu- 
siastic you  may  be  about  the  poetry  of  German  life, 
as  you  call  it,  brown  bread,  sliced  sausage,  and 
potato  salad,  would  be  very  unpalatable  to  you. 
The  want  of  refinement  in  German  manners  makes 
them  perfectly  repulsive  to  me.  No  English  gentle- 
woman, I  am  convinced,  could  ever  be  reconciled  to 
the  habits  of  German  women — say  nothing  of  German 
men." 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure,  dearest  mamma,"  said  Caro- 
line, "  whether,  supposing  it  possible  for  one  to 
become  reconciled  to  those  little  peculiarities,  one 
should  not  find  some  real  refinement  of  feeling — more 
genuine,  unwearying,  unselfish  kindness  of  heart 
among  the  Germans,  than  among  the  English  of  the 
corresponding  class  in  society." 

"How  in  the  world  can  you  make  that  out?" 
asked  the  mother. 

"  I  think,"  said  she — "  but  then  I  do  not  pretend  to 
any  great  experience  in  life — that  the  English  with 
limited  incomes,  those  at  least  who  have  an  appear- 
ance to  keep  up  in  the  world,  have  too  much  necessity 
to  care  for  themselves,  to  have  much  thought  and 
feeling  to  expend  on  others,  excepting  inasmuch  as 
they  think  and  care  for  what  others  say  and  think 
about  them.     For  instance  now,  Madame  Von  Yohn- 


36  FIRST  GLIMPSES. 

ing,  in  Stuttgart,  if  she  had  heen  an  English  lady, 
could  she  have  afforded,  out  of  her  small,  miserably 
small  income,  to  expend  all  that  world  of  love  and 
benevolence  which  lay  in  her  heart,  upon  everybody 
about  her?  She  would  have  had  too  much  need  to 
have  spent  all  her  love  upon  herself;  she  would  have 
had  not  a  single  florin  to  spare  from  caps  and  gowns, 
for  all  those  little  elegant  presents  she  bestowed  upon 
all  her  friends  !" 

"  But  then,"  replied  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  only  think  of 
her — a  woman  noble  by  birth,  noble  too  by  marriage, 
living  as  she  did!  spinning  and  knitting,  too,  ever- 
lastingly! wearing  herself  those  coarse,  black  knitted 
stockings !  Oh,  it  is  all  very  well,  Lina,  in  old- 
fashioned,  unrefined  Germany,  but  such  things  would 
not  do  in  England  !" 

"  Certainly  they  would  not,"  replied  she ;  "  but  I 
am  almost  inclined  to  think,  that  this  very  simplicity 
of  life,  so  long  as  it  excludes  none  of  the  higher  attri- 
butes and  accomplishments  of  mind — and,  was  not 
Madame  Von  Vohning  highly  accomplished,  and  her 
mind  of  a  very  Iw'gh  order  too? — superior  to  all  the 
artificialness  of  social  life  in  England." 

"  You  are  talking  about  what  you  do  not  under- 
stand," said  her  mother;  "  you  were  a  mere  school- 
girl when  we  left  England ;  you  have  been  in  Ger- 
many fourteen  months,  and  yet  you  draw  comparisons 
and  pass  judgments  just  as  if  you  had  the  experience 
of  a  life.  Now  let  me  ask  you  a  simple  question. 
Do  you  think  young  men  of  education  in  England 
would  go  rioting  up  stairs  as  those  three  did  just  now? 
or  would  drag  their  chairs  along  an  uncarpetted  room 
as  they  are  at  this  moment  doing,  to  the  disturbance 
of  a  whole  house? — that  is  not  so  very  unselfish,  I 
think!    Would  educated  young  Englishmen  do  so?" 

"  Perhaps  not,  dear  mother,"  said  she ;  "  but  then 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  37 

you  must  take  into  account  that  these  very  young  men, 
if  they  were  English,  although  they  might  enter  a  house 
with  much  more  propriety,  and  lift  a  chair  quietly  across 
a  room,  especially  if  it  were  unearpetted,  would  pro- 
bably at  the  same  time  have  so  little  reverence  or 
respect  for  their  mother  as  not  to  take  supper  with  her 
at  all,  and  most  certainly  not  one  so  humble  and  un- 
expensive  as  a  poor  German  widow  would  be  able  to 
provide.  Do  you  remember  young  Venables,  and  his 
Westminster  and  Cambridge  life  ? — and  yet  every bodv 
said  what  a  fine  gentleman  he  was!" 

"  Yes,  but,"  replied  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  he  was  a  tho- 
roughly dissipated,  heartless  young  man!" 

M  Poor  Mrs.  Venables!"  said  Caroline,  "  and  she 
sunk  her  very  annuity  to  save  him  from  debt  and 
disgrace,  and  yet  he  hardly  showed  her  common  gra- 
titude!" 

"  He  is  an  extreme  case,"  said  her  mother,  "  quite 
an  extreme  case ;  he  was  always  a  good-for-nothing 
youth.  I  remember  him  quite  a  boy,  and  as  a  boy  he 
was  spoiled  by  his  poor  mother :  if  his  father  had  lived 
he  would  probably  have  been  very  different.  He  was 
not  of  a  disposition  to  succeed  under  a  woman's  train- 
ing.    Yours  is  a  very  extreme  case,  Lina." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  Caroline.  "  I  suppose  there 
may  be  such  as  he  in  Germany ;  but  still  I  cannot  help 
fancying,  so  long  as  a  handsome,  wonderfully  accom- 
plished young  man — such,  for  instance,  as  that  young 
Eichholz  whostudiedat  Bonn — will  consent,  at  one-and- 
twenty,  to  wear  a  coat  which  has  been  turned,  because 
his  parents  were  not  rich,  and  he  had  many  brothers 
and  sisters  who  also  had  to  be  clothed  and  provided 
for,  that  there  must  be  more  social  virtue,  more  reaj 
stamina  for  unselfish  character  here,  than  with  us,  where 
so  much  is  sacrificed  to  show." 

"  Nonsense!  child,"  returned  her  mother;  "you take 
4 


38  FIRST  GLIMPSES. 

up  such  foolish  theories !  How  is  it  possible 
that  you  can  form  any  decided  judgment  on  either 
side?" 

"  I  am  very  much  of  a  chameleon,  dear  mamma," 
said  Caroline;  "  I  take  my  colouring  from  the  influ- 
ences that  surroundme.  I  remember  when  I  first  came 
to  Germany,  feeling  the  utmost  disgust  to  hundreds  of 
things  which  I  am  now  reconciled  to.  I  was  then  as 
proudly  patriotic  as  you,  and  should  have  thought  young 
Eichholz  and  his  old  coat  ridiculous ;  but,  someway,  one 
changes  in  feeling  and  opinion,  one  knows  not  how. 
Excellent  Madame  Von  Vohning,  with  all  her  quiet, 
sterling  virtues,  influenced  me  more  than  any  person  I 
ever  knew;  she  seemed  the  personification  of  every 
social  virtue — so  simple,  so  true-hearted,  so  refined;  she 
made  even  economy  fascinating;  and,  for  me  to  love 
economy,  who  have  had  more  grave  lectures  from  you 
on  extravagance  than  on  anv  other  subject,  is,  I  think, 
something  gained." 

"  Very  true,  my  dear,"  replied  her  mother ;  "  and  this 
I  will  say,  that  you  have  been  much  more  thoughtful,, 
in  many  ways,  of  late ;  but  I  beseech  of  you  not  to  adopt 
any  extreme  opinions.  However,  this  I  can  tell  you, 
England  is  the  only  true  and  fitting  home  for  a  gen- 
tlewoman ;  and  I  shall  not  be  pleased  with  your  adopting 
any  prejudices  whatever.  I  grant,  that  nothing  is  more 
disgusting  than  that  John-Bullish  spirit  which  asserts 
all  foreigners  to  be  fools :  they  are  not  so :  but  as  to 
my  comparison  between  German  and  English  social 
life  and  virtue,  the  case  is  this — England  is  the  rich 
family,  Germany  the  poor  one;  the  advantage  that 
the  German  has  is,  that  he  is  contented  with  his 
poverty,  and  makes  the  best  of  it — that  is  his  bless- 
ing, his  philosophy,  or  what  you  will.  The  English, 
as  a  nation,  may  live  freely  and  spend  freely ;  the 
same  sacrifices,  the  same  self-denial  is  not  required 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  39 

from  them :  in  them  it  would  he  parsimony.  Li- 
berality and  magnificence  are  their  virtues!  Oh,  they 
are  a  fine  people,  the  English !  and  I  am  proud  to 
think  that  the  Wilkinsons  are  as  good  a  specimen  of  the 
nation  as  one  would  wish  to  see  out  of  the  four  seas  ! 
I  am  proud  of  my  nation,  Lina!"  added  Mrs.  Palmer, 
feeling  very  patriotic,  "  and  so  ought  you  to  be  !  and 
I  shall  be  very  much  disappointed,  and  it  will  be 
very  much  against  my  wishes,  if  you  form  any  con- 
nexions but  with  your  own  country !  I  am  English 
in  all  my  feelings  and  prepossessions — so  was  your 
father :  it  was  his  boast  that  there  was  not  a  drop  of 
foreign  blood  in  his  veins:  he  was  of  a  good  old 
Saxon  stock,  and  I  am  sure  he  would  have  been  as 
much  distressed  as  I  should  be,  that  you  should  con- 
nect yourself  with  foreigners." 

11  Dearest  mamma!"  remonstrated  Caroline,  "  you 
are  indeed  jumping  to  a  veiy  bold  aonclusion.  But 
see,  what  a  splendid  sunset!"  said  she,  rising  from 
the  tea-table;  "  will  you  not  stand  a  few  moments  in 
the  balcony?  the  air  is  so  pleasant,  and  the  plants 
make  such  a  perfect  screen  from  below." 

Mrs.  Palmer  declined,  saying  that  she  would  write 
the  answer  to  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  now  that  all  was  so 
agreeably  settled,  that  the  letter  might  leave  by  the 
morning's  post.  Caroline  drew  on  her  gloves,  and, 
opening  her  small  parasol,  took  her  stand  among  the 
flowers  in  the  balcony. 

The  widow  Hoffmann's  three  guests  had  by  this  time 
finished  their  evening  meal,  and,  ir.  a  most  German- 
like fashion,  Karl's  two  friends  leaned  out  from  the 
open  casements,  enjoying  the  freshness  of  the  sunset 
air,  whilst  Karl,  seated  by  his  mother  on  the  sofa, 
related  to  her  all  the  details  of  the  long  and  arduous 
examination,  which  had,  however,  now  terminated  so 
happily ;  and  hecause  it  had  terminated  happily,  both 
he  and  she  could  talk  over  its  anxieties,  and  he  could 


40  FIRST  GLIMPSta. 

tell  her  all  the  nervous  excitement  through  which  he 
had  passed;  the  days  of  mental  exertion  which  left 
him  for  some  time  without  appetite,  and  without  the 
power  of  sleep;  and  yet  how  his  acquired  knowledge, 
and  the  internal  force  of  his  own  mind,  had  borne 
him  up  above  all  trial  and  all  difficulty,  and  he  had 
now  returned  to  her  with  honour  and  applause,  and 
with  every  chance  of  success  in  life  bright  before  him. 

"  Thank  God!"  exclaimed  the  widow,  wiping  her 
eyes,  and  kissing  her  son's  forehead. 

So  sat  they  at  the  very  moment  when  Caroline  rose 
up  from  the  tea-lable,  and  invited  her  mother  to  look 
out  on  the  sunset;  but  soon  after  she  had  taken  her 
stand  alone  in  the  balcony,  hidden  almost  by  the  tall 
oleanders  and  myrtles,  from  the  passers-by  below, 
Karl  Hoffmann  also  had  joined  his  friends  at  the 
window.  The  windows  of  his  mother's  room  looked 
directly  down  on  the  balcony,  and  the  three  young 
men  were  presently  aware  of  the  presence  of  the  "  fair 
Englanderin,"  who,  quite  unconscious  of  the  eyes 
which  were  upon  her,  stood  under  the  slanting  screen 
of  her  parasol,  thinking  over  the  conversation  she 
had  just  had  with  her  mother,  and  feeling  not  at  all 
disposed  to  alter  her  opinions.  Much  longer,  per- 
haps, she  might  have  pursued  the  subject,  had  not 
she  been  made  aware  of  those  above  her,  by  three 
German  words  spoken  by  a  deep,  manly  voice,  and 
which  evidently  were  applied  to  herself. 

"A  beautiful  head!"  said  the  speaker,  presuming, 
we  may  suppose,  that  the  fair  English  maiden  did 
not  understand  the  language.  Caroline,  without  even 
glancing  upward,  withdrew  from  the  balcony,  and, 
standing  still  at  the  open  window,  enjoyed,  for  a  full 
half  hour,  the  charm  and  freshness  of  the  evening. 
She  heard  nothing  more  spoken  from  the  window 
above,  but,  from  some  cause  or  other,  she  did  not 
forget  the  little  compliment,  but  actually,  the  first 


FIRST  GLIMPSES.  41 

time  she  passed  the  mirror,  glanced  in  it  to  see  if  the 
speaker  had  shown  good  taste  in  his  observation. 

Poor  Mrs.  Palmer!  if  she  had  known  that  the 
foolish  Caroline  listened  even  now  with  greater  in- 
terest to  the  bustling  feet  above  stairs — which  were 
heard  in  no  silent  motion,  but  which  she  was  too 
much  occupied  by  her  letter-writing  then  to  notice — 
she  would  indeed  have  grown  angry,  more  especially 
as  towards  ten  o'clock,  when  her  letter  was  finished, 
they  descended  the  echoing  staircase  in  what  she 
pronounced  a  most  tumultuous  and  ungentleman-like 
manner.  But  had  she  really  known  that  her  daughter 
rose  to  the  window  to  see  if  she  could  then  discover, 
through  the  summer  twilight,  the  forms  of  the  depart- 
ing young  men — noisy,  smoking  Germans!  she  would 
have  been  ready  to  give  up  her  lodgings  at  once, 
although  she  had  just  engaged  seven  rooms  under  the 
same  roof,  for  her  dear  English  friends  the  Wilkinsons ! 

Caroline  saw  that  only  two  left  the  house ;  and  from 
this  she  concluded  that  the  widow  Hoffmann's  son 
lived  with  his  mother;  and  of  this  she  was  presently 
after  convinced,  by  hearing  a  firm,  manly  step  pacing 
the  .chamber  above,  and  soon  after,  the  sound  of  a 
piano  accompanying  the  rich  voice  of  a  very  fine 
singer.  Karl  Hoffmann  was,  perhaps,  singing  to  his 
mother's  playing,  or,  what  was  much  more  likely, 
was  accompanying  himself.  He  was,  indeed,  a  good 
musician :  she  knew  the  air  so  well,  she  herself  sang 
and  played  often ;  she  thought  of  young  Venables, 
and  his  heart-broken  mother ;  she  thought  of  her  own 
English  cousins ;  and  then  she  thought  of  that  ex- 
cellent young  Eichholz  of  Bonn,  who  condescended 
to  wear  a  coat  which  had  been  turned :  and,  while 
she  kissed  her  mother  with  deep  affection  that  night, 
in  retiring  to  rest,  she  thought  that  she  should  hardly 
become  a  con  vert  to  her  prejudices  against  the  Germans* 


42 
CHAPTER  III. 

SKETCHES    OF    CHARACTER. 

Days  passed  on,  and  weeks ;  and,  though  Mrs.  Palme* 
received  duly  an  answer  to  her  letter  fi^om  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  dated  Miinchen,  to  which  city  they  now, 
accompanied  by  the  rich  Mr.  Burnett,  had  advanced 
on  their  route  from  Italy,  through  Switzerland,  avow- 
ing still  "  their  impatience  to  leave  gaiety  and  dissipa- 
tion, and  settle  down  in  rural  quiet  amid  the  far- 
famed  beauties  of  Heidelberg,"  still  they  came  not. 
Mrs.  Palmer,  therefore,  grew  very  nervous  on  the 
subject,  and,  to  her  daughter's  alarm,  seemed  threat- 
ened by  one  of  those  low,  nervous  fevers,  from  which 
she  had  already  suffered  so  much. 

It  was  with  painful  anxiety  that  Caroline  awaited, 
every  returning  day,  the  coming  in  of  letters.  At 
length  a  second  letter  came.  Mr.  Wilkinson  had 
been  summoned,  on  most  urgent  and  important  busi- 
ness, to  Paris ;  he  could  not  return  to  them  for  many 
weeks,  as,  probably,  he  must  visit  Petersburg  and 
Vienna — his  affairs  were  so  extensive,  so  weighty,  said 
his  wife ;  and  really  when,  as  one  might  say,  the  fate 
almost  of  empires  depended  on  a  stroke  of  his  pen,  it- 
was  wonderful  that  he  could  spare  any  time  for 
pleasure-taking,  especially  in  so  quiet  a  place  as 
Heidelburg.  She  feared  after  all,  that  perhaps  he  might 
not  be  able  to  return  to  them,  and  that,  perhaps,  she 
must  resign  so  great  an  indulgence  as  seeing  her  dear 
friends  in  Heidelberg,  as,  if  Mr.  W.  found  it  necessary 
to  go  direct  to  Vienna,  she  should  prefer  joining  him 
there;  but,  at  all  events,  she  should  wait  for  letters 
from  him  from  Paris,  and  be  guided  by  them. 

Poor  Mrs.  Palmer  grew  a  great  deal  worse  on  read- 
ing this  epistle.     "  Mr.  Wilkinson,"   said  she,  "  is 


SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER.  43 

uritjucestionably  a  great  man,  and  has  wonderfully 
extensive  concerns  of  a  money  kind.  He  is  a  great 
banker,  or  something  of  the  kind,  and  advances  money, 
like  the  Rothschilds,  to  all  the  courts  of  Europe 
almost;  hut  then,  clear  Mrs.  Wilkinson  ought  not  to 
let  me  engage  expensive  lodgings  for  them,  the  rent 
of  which  is  now  going  on.  Surely  they  will  not  let 
me  he  responsible  for  the  rent!" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  her  daughter. 

"  But  I  assure  you,  dear  Lina,"  replied  Mrs. 
Palmer,  our  landlord  considers  me  responsible;  and 
his  manners  were  very  unpleasant  to  me  the  other 
day.  He  did  not  like,  he  said,  the  rooms  remaining 
unoccupied  so  long;  that  seven  applicants  had  been 
about  them ;  and,  altogether,  I  felt  as  if  he  wanted  his 
money.  I  told  him  he  was  quite  sure  of  his  rent; 
and.  perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  only  fancy.  But  I  do 
not  like  the  man ;  and  it  will  be  very  unpleasant  to 
have  to  pay  a  quarter's  rent  for  those  great  rooms  out 
of  my  own  pocket,  if  not  a  whole  half  year's — very 
unpleasant,  indeed!  And  Mrs.  Wilkinson — I  must 
say  it — seems  to  show  very  little  consideration  for  us, 
through  the  whole  affair.  Not  one  word  does  she 
say  now  about  the  rent!" 

It  was  in  vain  that  Caroline  assured  her  mother, 
that  their  friends  understood  these  things,  and  would 
not  allow  them  to  be  sufferers.  Poor  Mrs.  Palmer 
was  nervous  and  out  of  humour,  and  full  of  suspi- 
cions ;  and,  now  Jhat  her  mind  was  wrought  up  to  it, 
she  confessed  to  her  daughter  many  little  peculiarities 
in  dear  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  which  proved  how  utterly 
thoughtless  she  was  about  money-matters.  She  was 
always  used  to  so  much  herself,  that  she  could  not 
conceive  other  people's  being  short  of  it;  and  she 
quite  believed,  that  if  they  didnotcome  to  Heidelberg, 
they   never  would  think  again  about  the  lodgings, 


44  SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER. 

though  they  had  heen  engaged  by  their  orders;  and, 
as  to  reminding  them  of  it,  it  was  out  of  the  question. 
She  had  already,  received  handsome  presents  both 
from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson — so  had  her  daughtei 
— and  therefore  they  must  stand  to  the  responsibility, 
vexatious  as  it  was. 

The  more  Mrs.  Palmer  thought  on  the  subject,  the 
more  nervous  and  irritable  she  became,  till  at  length 
she  appeared  seriously  indisposed. 

"  Do  call  in  a  physician  for  your  mother,"  pleaded 
the  poor  singing-mistress,  who  now,  having  given 
Caroline  three  lessons  a-week  for  several  weeks,  had 
become  sufficiently  familiar  to  venture  on  giving 
advice.  "  Oh,  how  I  wish  the  Herr  Dr.  Hoffmann 
could  see  your  mamma  !  Although  he  has  only  just 
taken  his  degree,  he  is  so  clever!"  And  then  the  good 
lady  told  over  again  the  cases  in  which  Karl's  skill, 
even  before  he  had  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  a  doctor's 
degree,  had  wrought  such  miraculous  cures. 

Caroline  sighed,  and  said  that  if  her  mother  would 
but  consent,  a  physician  should  be  sent  for  ;  but  that 
it  must  not  be  one  young,  and  without  experience — 
it  must  be  the  first  physician  of  the  place. 

It  was  long,  however — although  Mrs.  Palmer  was 
decidedly  a  nervous  patient — before  she  would  consent 
to  a  physician  being  called  in,  and  that  only  through 
the  interference  of  a  third,  and  very  unlooked  for  party. 

Madame  Von  Holzhiiuser  had,  as  we  have  said, 
given  now  some  week's  lessons  to  Caroline,  and  had 
in  the  meantime  become  greatly  interested  in  her. 
She  had  so  much  apparent  simplicity  of  character, 
seemed  so  natural  and  amiable,  sung  so  sweetly,  and 
had  such  fine  talents  for  music,  and  withall  so 
strong,  or  rather  so  willing,  an  admiration  for  the 
German  character,  and  listened  with  such  pleased 
curiosity  to  all  the  good  lady's  praise  of  her  friends 


SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER.  45 

in  the  third  story,  that  she  declared  to  them,  that  there 
never  was  an  English  girl  so  worthy  to  have  been, 
born  a  German  as  Caroline  Palmer. 

The  English  lady  and  her  daughter,  as  yet,  had  no 
acquaintance  in  the  city;  they  were,  in  fact,  scarcely 
known  in  it;  for  Mrs.  Palmer,  ever  since  she  had 
had  heard  of  the  Wilkinsons'  intentions  to  join  them, 
reserved  all  her  going  abroad  for  their  carriage,  or  in 
company  with  people  of  so  much  consequence  as  they. 
Caroline,  too,  since  her  mother's  indisposition,  had 
hardly  left  her  room,  so  that,  excepting  to  those  who 
inhabited  the  same  house — and  they  were  but  few — the 
young  English  girl  was  comparatively  unknown.  She 
could  not  help  feeling  her  situation  melancholy  and 
forlorn;  she  thought,  though  she  did  not  venture  to 
say  it  to  her  mother,  that  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  conduct^ 
was  heartless,  or,  to  say  the  least,  inconsiderate ;  and 
she  did  not  wonder  at  her  anxiety.  How  often  did 
she  wish  to  act  on  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser's  suggestion, 
and  ask  advice  and  consolation,  or  at  least  the  friendly 
notice,  of  the  warm-hearted  German  widow  in  the 
third  story.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  when  she  told 
her  mother  how  kindly  Mrs.  Hoffmann  had  stopped 
her  on  the  stairs,  to  inquire  after  her  health. 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  she,  "  it  would  do  you  good  to 
see  her.  I  wish  she  would  bring  her  knitting,  and 
sit  with  us." 

Mrs.  Palmer  grew  almost  angry  with  her  daughter; 
reproached  and  sighed  over  her  dilatory,  inconsiderate 
friend ;  reckoned  up,  for  the  fiftieth  time,  how  much  it 
must  deduct  from  their  half-year's  income,  if  they 
had  all  this  expensive  suite  of  apartments  to  pay  for; 
rang  for  the  maid,  to  inquire  if  the  postman  had  been 
to  the  house,  only  to  learn  that  he  had,  but  had 
brought  no  letter  either  for  her  or  for  her  daughter; 
and  then,  half  with  vexation,  and  half  from  bodily 


46  SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER. 

indisposition,  had  a  fit  of  crying,  which  left  her  with 
violent  headache  and  low  spirits  all  the  rest  of  the  day. 

However  much  Caroline  Palmer  might  at  this 
time  desire  the  friendly  accpiaintance  of  the  widow 
Hoffmann,  they,  on  their  part,  also  felt  towards  her 
the  most  friendly  sentiment.  Karl,  for  instance, 
seldom  went  to  the  window  without  glancing 
down  into  the  balcony  to  see  if  the  same  beau- 
tiful head,  whose  dark,  glossy  hair,  he  knew  so 
well,  was  there  among  the  flowers;  and  many  a  time 
he  listened  to  her  voice,  as  it  rose  to  his  ear  in  the 
melody  often  of  his  own  favourite  songs,  through  the 
open  windows  of  the  two  floors.  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  how- 
ever, had  a  barrier  to  overleap  before  she  could  admit 
any  active  interest  for  the  young  stranger,  and  that  was 
the  fact  of  her  being  English.  Many  an  argument  was 
begun  and  left  unfinished  on  national  character  and 
national  prejudices ;  and,  so  determined  was  the  good 
German  mother  against  all  English  people  whatsoever,, 
that,  had  there  not  been  another  plea  than  that  of  mere 
beauty  and  general  amiability — an  appeal  to  her 
sympathy — Caroline  might  have  lived  seven  years 
under  the  same  roof,  without  having  been  vouchsafed 
even  one  word.  But  no  sooner  was  the  kind-hearted 
widow  informed  that  the  mother  of  the  young  foreigner 
was  ill — was  suffering  from  a  nervous  attack — a  fret- 
ful, irritable  invalid,  and  that  as  yet  they  had  no 
friend  in  the  city  to  whom  the  poor  girl  could  look 
for  comfort  or  assistance — that  they  had  not  even  a 
physician — she  forgot,  at  once,  that  she  was  English 
■ — forgot,  in  short,  that  she  was  other  than  one  of  the 
great  Christian  family,  of  which  all  men  are  brothers, 
whose  duty  it  is  to  love  one  another;  and  she  made 
up  her  mind  to  waive  all  ceremony,  and  introduce 
herself. 

"  I  don't  mind  in  this  case ;  it  is  a  very  peculiar 


SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER.  47 

one,"  said  she  to  her  friend,  the  singing-mistress;  "  I 
will  go  down  and  see  if  I  can  be  of  any  service  to 
them.  The  daughter,  you  say,  speaks  German — that 
is  right — for  I  neither  speak  French  nor  English.  I 
like  neither  one  nation  nor  the  other!"  said  she,  with 
a  smile  so  full  of  benevolence  as  almost  to  contradict 
her  words,  which,  however,  were  the  genuine  senti- 
ments of  her  heart.  "  There  need  be  no  further 
intimacy;  but  if  one  can  be  of  any  little  service 
while  the  mother  is  ill,  it  is  no  more  than  one's  duty." 

Accordingly,  five  minutes  after  Mrs.  Von  Holz- 
hauser  was  gone,  Mrs.  Hoffmann  put  on  her  better 
gown  and  her  visiting  cap,  and  descended  the  stairs, 
pausing,  however,  a  full  half  minute  before  she 
knocked  at  her  fellow-inmate's  door,  to  consider 
with  herself  whether  she  should  not  afterwards  repent 
of  what  she  was  doing.  "  It  is  but  a  common  neigh- 
bour's duty,"  said  she  to  herself,  recollecting  the  last 
Sunday's  sermon  on  the  parable  of  the  man  who  fell 
among  thieves ;  so  she  knocked,  and  the  next  moment 
was  received  by  the  young  English  girl,  with  such  a 
cordial,  grateful  welcome,  as  at  once  set  her  at  ease, 
and  made  her  feel  that  she  was  indeed  a  good 
Samaritan. 

When  Karl  returned  home  this  evening  at  near  ten 
o'clock,  at  the  very  moment  he  passed  the  door  of 
Mrs.  Palmer's  apartments,  it  was  opened  by  Caroline, 
who,  with  happy  smiles,  and  assurances  of  gratitude 
and  kindness,  was  taking  leave  of  his  mother.  He 
paused  for  half  a  second  and  bowed ;  and  his  mother, 
with  an  instinctive  feeling  of  pride,  which  evei  rose  to 
her  heart  at  sight  of  him,  remarked  to  Caroline  that 
he  was  her  son. 

"  So  you  have  been  calling  on  the  invalid  lady 
below,"  said  Karl,  as  they  both  entered  their  sitting- 
room  together.     Mrs.  Hoffmann  believed  it  necessary, 


48  SKETCH KS  OF  CHARACTER. 

in  the  first  place,  to  convince  her  son  of  the  propriety 
of  the  visit  she  had  made,  taking  it  for  granted  that 
he  must  have  the  same  scruples  to  English  acquaint- 
ance as  herself;  nor  did  she  proceed  to  give  him  any 
details  of  her  call,  till  he  had  three  times  assured  her 
he  thought  she  had  done  quite  right*  She  then  toirl 
him  that  the  mother  really  was  ill — that  is,  out  of 
spirits,  and  frightfully  nervous  and  irritahle;  she 
pitied,  she  said,  the  poor  girl  extremely,  who  seemed 
amiahle  and  modest,  and  well  educated;  tl.at  she 
had  talked  a  great  deal  with  them  both,  and  even  had 
persuaded  the  mother  to  let  a  physician  be  imme- 
diately sent  for;  that  he  had  come  while  she  was 
there  ;  and  that,  altogether,  she  thought  her  visit  had 
done  them  good.  The  physician,  she  said,  had  told . 
her  privately,  that  Mrs.  Palmer  would  soon  be  better 
if  she  would  not  irritate  and  excite  herself;  that  he 
had  prescribed  going  out  almost  daily  in  a  carriage ; 
and  that,  altogether,  she  was  pleased  she  had  been 
down;  although  she,  for  her  part,  was  determined  not 
to  begin  any  intimacy,  for  she  did  not  admire  the 
mother,  certainly;  and  when  these  great  English 
friends  came,  for  whom  the  suite  of  apartments  below 
had  so  long  been  taken,  they  would,  evidently,  be 
altogether  too  grand  for  her  acquaintance. 

The  next  morning  Caroline  made  a  call  on  Mrs 
Hoffmann,  not  only  to  thank  her  for  her  neighbourly 
attentions  the  night  before,  but  also  to  give  her  the 
agreeable  intelligence  that  her  mother  was  much  better 
this  morning;  which  the  grateful  girl  was  quite  willing 
to  attribute  to  the  cheerful  hours  she  had  spent  the 
evening  before. 

Day  after  day  went  on,  and  Caroline  lost  no 
opportunity  of  improving  an  acquaintance  so  happily 
begun.  Madame  Hoffmann  seemed  to  her  as  a 
second  Madame  Von  Vohning ;  and  not  a  day  passed 


SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER.  49 

without  intercourse  of  one  kind  or  other.  Often  she 
took  her  work  and  sat  with  her ;  often  Karl  would 
bring  a  hook  and  read  to  her  and  her  mother  foi 
hours.  It  was  a  calm  and  a  happy  time !  One  day 
Caroline  was  sitting  alone  with  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  and 
they  began  to  speak  of  the  English  friends  they  were 
expecting,  and  of  whom  every  inmate  in  the  house 
had  already  heard  many  rumours,  although  nobody, 
as  yet,  could  tell  anything  positive  about  them. 
"  They  are  your  relations,  I  suppose,"  said  Mrs. 
Hoffmann,  who,  like  most  other  people,  had  some 
curiosity  even  when  she  was  not  particularly  interested. 

"  Not  relations,"  said  Caroline,  "  but  very  old  and 
dear  friends  of  mamma's — Mrs.'  Wilkinson,  at  least; 
she  and  mamma  were  school-fellows  and  school- 
friends  nearly  thirty  years  ago,  and  they  have  been 
friends  ever  since,  though  it  has  so  happened  that 
they  have  not  frequently  met.  A  very  kind  inter- 
course has,  however,  always  been  kept  up  between 
them  ;  and,  now  that  there  is  a  prospect  of  our  spend- 
ing three  months  at  least  with  them,  perhaps  more, 
mamma  naturally  thinks  of  it  with  great  pleasure." 

"  They  come  here  from  Italy,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Hoffmann. 

"  They  spent  the  last  winter  in  Italy,"  said  Caro- 
line, "  and  come  here  by  way  of  Switzerland.  The^ 
are  now  in  Miinchen.  The  continent  is  very  familiar 
to  them,  for  they  have  resided  mostly  abroad,  and 
mostly  in  the  large  cities.  Mr.  Wilkinson  is  im- 
mensely rich,  and  they  have  the  greatest  possible 
pleasure  in  spending  money — as  much,  mamma  says, 
as  he  has  in  accumulating;  and,  though  he  has  vast 
concerns  all  the  world  over,  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
he  never  made  an  unfortunate  speculation  in  his  life." 

Mrs.  Hoffmann  replied  by  that  wonderfully  ex- 
pressive German  monosyllable,  "  So !" 


50  SKETCHES  OF   CHARACTER. 

Caroline  thought  with  herself,  that  perhaps  she 
had  said  quite  enough  of  these  unknown  strangers, 
whom,  it  was  not  to  be  expected,  could  be  interesting 
to  Mrs.  Hoffmann ;  but  that  good  lady's  curiosity, 
perhaps,  was  not  quite  satisfied,  or,  perhaps,  out  of 
mere  courtesy,  she  renewed  the  subject,  by  remarking, 
"  And  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  I  suppose,  is  about  your  mam- 
ma's age?  And  a  very  agreeable  person  she  must  be, 
from  what  your  mamma  has  said."     , 

"  I  am  sure,"  replied  Caroline,  pleased  with  the 
apparent  interest  the  other  took  in  their  expected 
friends,  "  that  you  will  be  quite  charmed  with  Mrs. 
Wilkinson.  Mamma  thinks  her  one  of  the  most  de- 
lightful persons  she  knows.  It  is  three  years  now 
since  they  met.  They  spent  a  summer  together  at 
Cheltenham.  I  was  not  with  them.  That  summer  I 
spent  with  my  godmother  in  Ireland ;  and,  strange  as 
it  may  seem,  I  have  seen  her  but  twice — but  how 
well  I  remember  that  twice!  Once  my  nurse-maid 
dressed  for  me  a  very  smart  lady-doll,  which  she  called 
Mrs.  Wilkinson — for  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  name  was 
quite  a  household  word;  it  meant  whatever  was  mu- 
nificent and  generous,  because,  as  long  as  I  can 
remember,  she  sent  me  vast  quantities  of  beautiful 
toys  and  fine  presents.  Of  this  doll  1  knew  nothing; 
so  when  it  was  dressed  the  maid  came  running  to  me, 
tellins;  me  that  Mrs.  Wilkinson  was  in  the  drawinjj- 
room,  and  wanted  to  see  me.  I  ran  in,  but  when  I 
found  only  the  doll,  my  disappointment  was  extreme, 
and,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I  actually  tore  off  its 
clothes,  and  dashed  the  doll,  which' was  of  wax,  and 
thus  soon  spoiled,  on  the  floor.  At  that  very  moment, 
by  some  strange  chance  or  other,  the  true  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  actually  came  in,  and,  poor  dear  lady,  was 
so  pleased  and  flattered  by  what  had  happened,  that 
she  gave  the  maid  and  me  each  a  guinea,  and  sent 


SKETCHES   OF  CHARACTER.  51 

us  off  in  licr  carriage,  she  to  buy  a  new  gown,  and  I 
a  new  doll.  You  will  confess  that  I,  a  little  child, 
had  reason  to  remember  her.  The  next  time  I  saw 
her  was  equally  memorable  to  me.  But  I  fear  I 
I  shall  weary  you,"  said  Caroline ;  "  it  cannot  interest 
you  to  know  anything  about  so  complete  a  stranger 
as  Mrs.  Wilkinson." 

"  No;  I  pray  you  to  go  on!"  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann, 
most  kindly,  "  I  am  interested — extremely  interested, 
I  assure  you." 

"  The  next  time,  then,  that  I  saw  Mrs.  Wilkinson,' 
continued   Caroline,  "  was,   as  I    said,   equally  me- 
morable.    I,   being  an  only  child,  was  destined  to 
learn    all    that    it   was    thought  needful   for    me    to 
know,    from    teachers  at  home.     My   godmother,   a 
most  old-fashioned  lady,  who  approved  of  no  modern 
innovations,    and  who,  in    her  youth,  had  gone  te 
school,  and  learned  all  kinds  of  needlework,  and  who 
knew,  by  heart,  all  the  Psalms  of  David,  the  Collects 
of  the   Church  of  England — to   say  nothing   of  the 
Church  of  England  Catechism — by  the  time  she  was 
twelve  years  of  age,  was  greatly  shocked  at  the  mode  of 
education  pursued  by  mamma,  and  insisted  upon  my 
going  to  school.     Mamma  remonstrated;  I  cried;  but, 
as  the  godmother  was  rich,  and  was  expected  to  endow 
me  with  some  of  her  worldly  goods,  it  was  thought 
best  and  wisest  to  acquiesce,  and  to  school  I  was  sent. 
The  choice  of  the  school  could  not  have  been  judi- 
cious, or  perhaps  I,  by  my  former  mode  of  education, 
was  unfitted  for  school.     However  that  might  be,  I 
tvas  very  unhappy.     I  had  always  hitherto  lived  with 
those  older  than  myself,  in  an  intimacy,  and  confi- 
dence, and  consideration  among  them — of  the  wisdom 
of  which  I  say  nothing — but  which    certainly  had 
made  my  childhood  a  very  happy  one.     At  school  I 
was  ^t  once  thrown  among  girls,  many,  as  I  remembej 


52  SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER. 

them,  very  coarse-minded,  and  all  of  them  full  of 
reckless  gaiety,  which  made  me  timid,  and,  ignorant 
of  school-life  as  I  was,  the  butt  of  their  never-ending 
ridicule  and  mischief.  The  school  teachers,  who  them- 
selves must  have  been  women  of  very  ordinary  minds, 
and  who  certainly,  and  perhaps  naturally,  estimated 
a  pupil  by  her  showy  accomplishments  more  than  by 
her  moral  qualities,  soon  pronounced  me  both  ill- 
tempered  and  stupid ;  and,  as  you  may  easily  believe, 
I  was  very  wretched." 

"  I  can  believe  it,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said 
Mrs.  Hoffmann,  laying  down  her  knitting,  and  giving 
her  hand  to  Caroline,  "  I  can  believe  it.  Grown 
people  often  ridicule  the  sorrows  of  children;  they 
will  not  believe  that  children  can  have  sorrows.  God 
knows  how  many  a  young  heart  aches,  and  how  many 
a  bitter  tear  young  eyes  shed  in  secret!  I  am  no 
disbeliever  in  the  griefs  of  children.  I  believe  you 
were  wretched;  and,  for  my  part,  I  never  see  a  school 
of  young  ladies,  even  here,  without  a  sentiment  ol 
commiseration,  without  my  own  heart  being  troubled. 
I  believe  that  even  here  many  a  school-girl  is  un- 
happy; and  how  much  more — pardon  me  for  saying 
it — how  much  more  must  it  be  the  case  among  you, 
where  life  is  so  much  more  artificial!" 

Caroline's  heart  felt  as  if  it  were  knitted  to  that  ol 
the  widow  Hoffmann,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
she  exclaimed,  "  I  always  knew,  dear  Mrs.  Hoffmann, 
that  you  and  1  should  be  friends!" 

Mrs.  Hoffmann  smiled,  gave  Caroline  her  hand, 
and  remarked,  "  So  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  then,  relieved 
you  from  this  school-bondage?" 

"Yes,  indeed  she  did,"  replied  she;  "  and  I  shall 
always  love  her  on  that  account.  Dear  me  !  how  that 
melancholy  six  months  lives  in  my  memory  !  I  had 
always  been  used  to  go  out  long  walks  with   my 


SKETCHES  OF   CHARACTER.  53 

toverness;  half  a  day's  ramble  was  so  common  to  me, 
that  it  never  seemed  like  an  indulgence.  The  very 
week  after  I  first  went  to  school,  what  a  rejoicing  and 
exultation  there  was — for  the  whole  school  was  to  go 
out  a  long  walk!  Not  a  walk  through  the  town,  two 
and  two,  beginning  with  the  tall  ones  and  ending 
with  the  little  ones,  all  paired  like  a  regiment  o! 
soldiers,  and  where,  because  she  is  nearest  to  you  in 
height,  you  allvays  chance  to  walk  with  some  girl  you 
dislike ;  but  a  real  ramble  into  green  lanes  and 
flowery  meadows,  where  you  might  run  about,  or 
choose  your  own  companion ;  in  short,  it  was  a  day 
of  liberty.  I  was  the  only  one  that  did  not  jump 
about  for  joy :  they  thought  me  so  odd  and  so  stupid, 
and  I  thought  them  so  rude  and  so  silly,  to  make  such 
a  fuss  about  a  walk.  Alas !  before  that  day  six 
months,  I  had  learnt  what  a  source  of  real  joy  was  a 
country  ramble  to  a  school-girl ;  a  pleasure  which 
came  only  twice  a  year;  a  peep,  as  it  were,  into  the 
world  which  lay  beyond  our  narrow  bounds,  and  our 
yet  narrower  experience  ;  a  change  from  the  irksome 
sameness  of  school  routine.  Good  Heaven  !  how 
thankful  I  used  to  be  if  the  governesses  only  changed 
their  seats,  or  wore  a  new  gown — my  mind  was  so 
wearied  with  the  monotony  of  everything  about  me ; 
therefore,  though  in  a  much  quieter  way  than  the 
others,  did  I  rejoice  equally  with  the  wildest,  when  the 
day  came  for  our  country  ramble.  Yet,  even  in  the 
midst  of  that  much-enjoyed  indulgence,  I  went  mop- 
ing alons:  in  a  silent  sentimental  state — in  a  melan- 
choly  day-dream — thinking  how  different  a  walk  twice 
a-year  was,  to  one  taken  every  day,  and  dwelling 
■with  morbid  recollection  on  my  pleasant  country 
home,  my  mother,  my  governess,  even  my  lessons  at 
home.  We  were  in  a  woody  green  lane;  the  school 
party  were  a  long  way  behind,  gathering  nuts,  or 


54  SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER. 

making  garlands  of  autumn  flowers,  when  I  came 
suddenly  upon  a  gay  pic-nic  party  which  was  seated 
in  a  wide,  green,  and  shady  place.  What  a  charm- 
ing, yet  melancholy  spectacle, -was  this  to  my  eyes! 
I  too  had  often  gone  out  with  my  mother  and  her 
friends  on  such  excursions.  I  knew  exactly  how  one 
felt  when  seated  on  the  grass,  the  horses  tied  to 
the  trees  around,  and  the  gay  carriages  drawn  up 
behind ;  it  filled  my  young  imagination  with  ideas  of 
halting  caravans  in  the  desert.  I  easily  converted 
horses  into  dromedaries;  and  the  bright-coloured 
shawls,  and  the  servants  in  smart  liveries,  gave  a 
colouring  to  the  picture,  which  was  altogether  oriental. 
How  I  wished  I  were  one  of  the  children  seated 
there !  nay,  even  that  I  was  a  servant  to  wait  upon 
them — anything  rather  th#n  a  school-girl ! '  I  screened 
myself  behind  a  tree,  and  looked  on  for  some  time,  as 
I  thought  unobserved;  when,  all  at  once,  a  merry- 
faced  boy,  of  about  my  own  age,  but  a  great  deal 
stronger,  sprang  upon  me,  and,  seizing  one  o*f  my 
hands,  attempted  to  drag  me  forward.  I  was  ashamed 
and  half  frightened,  whilst  he,  laughing,  called  to  his 
sister  to  help  him,  for  that  I  should  not  go  until  I 
had  eaten  some  strawberry  cream  and  biscuits.  Straw- 
berry cream  and  biscuits!  what  a  sound  it  was  for  a 
school-girl!  I  began  to  cry;  yes,  Mrs.  Hoffmann, 
although  I  was  thirteen  years  of  age,  I  began  to  cry  ! 
but  whether  it  was  at  the  idea  of  my  favourite  straw- 
berry cream,  or  whether  for  shame,  or  fear,  or  envy 
of  those  happy  people,  I  know  not.  By  this  time, 
however,  all  eyes  were  upon  me ;  the  ladies — several 
of  them  at  least — rose  from  the  grass  and  came  to- 
wards me,  inquiring  with  the  utmost  gentleness 
whence  I  came,  and  who  I  was;  I  mentioned  my 
name,  when,  judge  of  my  surprise  at  the  exclamation 
of  '  Good  heavens!   Caroline  Palmer!  my  own  little 


SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER.  53 

pet  Lina!'  and  the  next  moment  I  was  kissed  on 
forehead,  cheek,  and  lips,  by  kind,  dear  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son. She  seemed  like  an  angel  from  heaven!  My 
tears,  which  now  flowed  in  torrents,  from  surprise 
and  excitement,  were  wiped  away  by  her  delicately 
perfumed  and  embroidered  handkerchief;  and  the 
next  moment  I  was  seated  beside  her  on  cushions 
which  seemed  as  soft  as  an  eastern  divan,  and  eating 
strawberry  cream!  She  began  almost  immediately 
to  speak  of  my  school-life;  she  said  she  disapproved  of 
it  altogether;  that  she  had  written  many  letters  on 
the  subject  to  my  mother;  and  bade  me  tell  her,  was 
I  happy?  I  opened  all  my  heart;  I  told  her  all  my 
troubles,  great  and  small,  and  all  the  gay  pic-nic  party 
joined  in  saying  that  I  was  an  ill-used  and  much-to- 
be-pitied  child.      Oh,  how  I  loved  them  all!" 

"But,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  "where  were 
your  school-companions  all  this  time,  and  your  gover- 
ness?   Surely  you  were  sought  after,  inquired  after." 

"  Yes,  indeed  T  was,"  returned  Caroline;  "scarcely  • 
had  I  finished  my  history,  and  won  for  myself  the 
sympathy  of  all  my  new  friends,  when  a  peasant  came 
up  and  inquired  if  such  a  young  lady  as  I  had  been 
seen ;  and,  whilst  he  was  being  assured  of  my  safety, 
the  lady  of  the  school  herself,  looking  hot  and  anxious, 
ind  very  angry,  came  also.  I  had  been  missed,  but 
not  certainly  for  some  time  after  I  left  the  school-party. 
They  were  then  halting  at  a  cottage  scarcely  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  off,  where  tea  was  ready ;  but  my  absence, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  had  spoiled  their  pleasure.  Some 
said  that  I  had  run  away ;  some  that  I  was  lost ;  and 
others,  that  I  had  drowned  myself.  A  long  parley 
ensued  between  the  mistress  of  the  school  and  Mrs. 
Wilkinson.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  what  would 
have  been  the  most  proper  course  to  have  been  pur- 
sued; the  one  declared  I  should  return  with  her  to 


66  SKETCHES  OF  CHARACTER. 

the  school,  and  thence  he  dismissed  to  my  mother,  as 
a  hopeless  delinquent;  the  other  claimed  me  as  the 
child  of  her  best  friend,  and  declared  that  I  never 
again  should  set  foot  over  the  school  threshold. 

"  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  who  never  in  her  life  has  heen 
accustomed  to  fail  in  her  object,  of  course  carried  the 
day  triumphant.  I  went  in  her  beautiful  carriage 
that  night  to  the  cottage  she  had  taken  for  the  summer 
months,  ten  miles  off,  in  a  gay  little  watering-place. 
She  wrote  to  my  mother  that  very  night.  I  had  her 
consent  to  remain  a  month  as  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  guest. 
How  they  managed  to  pacify  the  old-fashioned  god- 
mother, I  know  not;  my  clothes  were  fetched  from 
the  school ;   and  so  ended  my  school-days ! 

"  I  had  the  honour  of  giving  a  children's  ball  during 
the  month  of  my  gay  visit.  I  had  a  pony  to  ride, 
when  I  accompanied  Mrs.  Wilkinson  on  horseback ; 
or  I  sat  with  her  in  her  handsome  carriage,  when  she 
made  excursions  into  the  neighbourhood,  made  morn- 
ing calls,  or  went  shopping ;  and  one  day — oh  it  was 
very  wrong! — she  actually  drove  to  the  town  where  I 
had  gone  to  school,  and  went  to  a  shop — a  confec- 
tioner's shop — just  opposite  the  school,  where  the  car- 
riage stood  half-an-hour,  on  purpose  that  they  might 
see  how  grand  and  how  happy  I  was.  It  made  me 
quite  melancholy  to  look  up  to  that  school-room 
window,  and  to  see  the  faces  I  knew  so  well,  looking 
out.  They  saw  me,  but  if  they  thought  I  exulted, 
they  were  mistaken.  I  was  very  glad  when  we  drove 
away." 

"  Your  feeling  certainly  was  right,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Hoffmann  ;  "  I  respect  you  for  it.  But  has  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson herself  no  family?" — for  she  was  greatly  in- 
terested in  Caroline's  sketch  of  character. 

"  They  have  an  adopted  son,  or  nephew — for  that,  I 
think,  is  the  relationship  they  give  him  the  benefit  of," 


A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE.  57 

replied  she,  "  who  is  to  them  both  more  than  common 
son  or  daughter.  Relation  he  certainly  is  not,  though 
closely  connected  with  the  family  by  marriage.  Mr. 
Wilkinson's  sister  married  a  gentleman  who  had  one 
son  by  a  former  wife ;  he  inherited  a  large  property 
from  his  uncle,  a  merchant  of  Bristol;  and,  after  his 
father's  and  his  step-mother's  death,  while  he  was  yet 
a  boy,  Mr.  Wilkinson,  Avho  was,  I  believe,  his  guar- 
dian, took  him  to  his  house,  and  spared  no  expense 
of  tutors,  or  anything  else  upon  him.  He  was  brought 
up  at  one  of  our  great  universities,  and  has  been  on  the 
continent  for  the  last  two  years.  He  joined  them  in 
Switzerland,  and  remains  with  them  during  their  stay 
in  Germany.  I  have  not  yet  seen  him,  nor  has 
mamma  for  several  years.  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  however, 
writes  wonderful  things  about  him." 

"  I  hope  you  may  find  him  agreeable,"  said  Mrs. 
Hoffmann. 

"  I  hope  so  too,"  said  Caroline  ;  "for,  as  we  are  to 
be  inmates  of  the  same  house  for  three  -months,  it 
certainly  is  worth  hoping  for,  on  my  part." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    PARTY    OF     PLEASURE. 

It  is  astonishing  what  an  intimacy  sprang  up  between 
the  two  small  households  in  a  short  time.  Karl  and 
his  mother  were  speaking  about  the  Palmers  one 
morning  at  breakfast,  and  he  was  expressing  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  their  acquaintance — the  first 
English  people  that  he  had  had  an  opportunity  of 
knowing  at  all  intimately. 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  do  not  augur  much  good 
from  this  intimacy,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  who,  spite 
of  the  interest  she  felt  in  Caroline,  was  yet  beset  with 


58  A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE. 

misgivings  and  jealousies  as  to  how  the  acquaintance 
might  in  the  end  turn  out. 

"  You  need  fear  no  harm  from  it,"  said  Karl :  "  1 
myself  am  leaving  you  in  a  few  weeks ;  and,  even 
before  that  time,  their  English  friends  will  he  with 
them,  when,  if  they  do  not  need  your  acquaintance, 
you  can  so  naturally  drop  theirs.  But  whilst  the 
mother  confesses  herself  so  much  cheered  by  your 
little  attentions,  and  you  yourself  acknowledge  the 
daughter  to  be  so  amiable  and  natural,  nay,  so  alto- 
gether charming,  I  cannot  see  any  reason  for  your 
being  dissatisfied  with  what  you  have  done." 

"  I  think  the  mother  worldly,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann, 
"  very  worldly.  She  often,  it  is  true,  has  the  skill  to 
conceal  it;  but  I  am  sure  that,  however  much  she 
may  say  about  gratitude  to  me  for  my  neighbourliness, 
and  all  that,  she  would  be  ashamed  of  my  acquaint- 
ance before  those  whom  she  considered  either  her 
equals  or  superiors;  and  therefore  I  will  pursue  the 
acquaintance  no  farther.  Why  should  I?  Why  should 
I  prepare  any  needless  vexations  for  myself?  That 
you  are  going  away  very  soon,  I  know,  and  for  that 
very  reason  I  will  enjoy  the  few  weeks  of  your  stay 
in  unbroken  comfort.  I  will  not  be  intimate  with 
these  people,  for  I  foresee,  as  plain  as  may  be,  that 
one  way  or  another  it  will  end  in  trouble.  I  have  a 
foreboding  in  my  mind  against  it." 

Karl  laughed.  "A  woman's  argument,  my  dear 
mother,"  said  he,  "  is  always  one  of  feeling,  not  of 
reason.  You  have  many  prejudices  against  all  fo- 
reigners— against  the  English  in  particular:  in  this 
instance  your  natural  kind-heartedness  has  prevailed 
over  them;  but,  now  that  the  exercise  of  benevolence 
is  no  longer  called  for,  you  fall  back  upon  your  pre- 
judices, and  persuade  yourself  that  they  are  founded 
on  reason.    The  truth  is,  that  your  acquaintance  with 


A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE.  59 

these  amiable  foreigners  has  endangered  your  pre- 
judices, and  now  they  all  rise  up  in  array,  and  call  a 
host  of  forebodings,  equally  false  with  themselves,  to- 
their  aid.  No,  no;  be  guided  by  me:  do  not  cast  off 
your  new  friends  so  abruptly;  wait  and  see,  first  of 
all,  whether  they  are  unworthy:  if,  when  their  rich 
relations  come,  they  no  longer  seek  your  acquaintance, 
you  have  nothing  to  do  but  quietly  to  stay  in  your 
own  rooms,  and  let  them  enjoy  their  grandeur  to 
themselves ;  but  if,  as  I  believe,  you  find  them 
increasingly  agreeable,  increasingly  friendly,  why 
should  you  withdraw  thus  voluntarily? — nay,  give 
them  cause  to  think  you  uncertain  in  your  disposi- 
tion, even  when  yourself,  only  the  last  evening,  ac- 
knowledged how  much  you  enjoyed  their  society — 
how  much  you  were  charmed  with  the  freshness, 
simplicity,  and  sincerity  of  character  of  the*  younger 
lady,  to  say  nothing  of  her  beauty  and  her  accom- 
plishments." 

"  Yes,"  said  his  mother,  "  all  that  I  acknowledge; 
but  they  placed  me  under  the  fascination  of  a  spell, 
as  it  were ;  my  eyes  are  now  open,  and  I  am  in- 
fluenced by  my  reason.  As  long  as  I  could  do  any 
good,  or  be  of  any  service — while,  for  instance,  the 
mother  was  an  invalid — it  was  so  different;  but,  now 
I  am  not  wanted,  I  cannot  longer  be  useful  to  them." 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  said  Karl,  "  if  you  wish  to  do 
good,  you  ought  by  no  means  to  drop  their  acquaint- 
ance, for  the  daughter  at  least,  if  not  the  mother, 
will  be  benefited  by  you.  If  I  am  not  greatly  mis- 
taken, Miss  Palmer  is  of  a  noble  nature,  with  great 
truthfulness  of  character — exactly  such  a  one  as  will 
take  a  life-long  impression  from  the  beauty  and 
nobility  of  virtue,  especially  when  presented  to  her 
chrough  the  imagination ;  now  her  imagination  is 
enlisted  on  the  side  of  our  Gemnan  virtues,  do  not 


60  A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE. 

let  her    be   repulsed   by   a   noble-hearted    German 
woman  whose  friendship  she  solicits!" 

"  Oh,  if  I  were  young,  Karl,"  said  his  mother,  "  it 
might  be  all  very  well;  I  might  then  make  new 
acquaintances,  or  new  friendships,  but  at  my  time  of 
life  it  is  out  of  the  question ;  I  cannot  promise  even 
to  oblige  you  by  keeping  up  this  intimacy  :  and  why, 
indeed,  should  it  oblige  you?  After  a  very  few  weeks 
you,  in  all  probability,  will  never  see  them  again,  and 
when  you  are  gone,  this  interchanging  of  visits,  this 
intercourse  with  people  whose  feelings,  and  views, 
and  objects  in  life  are  so  different  to  mine,  will  be 
irksome  and  unpleasant  to  me,  and  therefoie  I  beg 
you  to  urge  me  no  further." 

This  little  conversation  had  been  more  immediately 
occasioned  by  a  wish  on  Karl's  part,  that  the  English 
mother  and  daughter  might  be  invited  to  join  a  party 
which,  in  a  day  or  two,  was  going  to  spend  the  after- 
noon among  the  old  castles  of  Neckarsteinach,  a  place 
of  favourite  resort,  a  few  miles  up  the  valley  of  the 
Neckar.  Nothing  can  be  imagined  more  charming 
than  this  place:  the  noble  sweep  of  the  river;  the  fine 
outline  of  the  hills ;  the  picturesque  ruins  of  the 
castles,  the  ancient  strongholds  of  robber-knights,  so 
renowned  and  so  terrible  as  to  have  acquired  the 
expressive  surname  of  Landschaden,  or  Bane-of-the- 
land;  the  more  modern  castle,  still  inhabited,  and 
which,  with  its  tall  towers,  and  picturesque  gables 
and  galleries,  its  modern  flower-garden,  and  modern 
glass  windows,  seemed  so  beautifully  to  ally  the  rude, 
strong  grandeur  of  the  middle  ages  with  the  elegance 
and  comfort  of  modern  days  and  manners — the 
singular  old  walled  city  of  Diilsberg,  on  the  opposite 
hill,  sending  back  the  imagination  to  the  fenced  cities 
of  the  Philistines,  in  the  days  of  Joshua  and  the 
Judges  of  Israel ;  together  with  the  old,  but  beauti  ■ 


A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE.  61 

fully  clean  church,  in  which  lie  buried  the  Land- 
schaden  of  far-gone  generations,  with  effigy  and 
memorial  stones,  commemorating,  in  rude  verse,  their 
proud  alliances,  their  desperate  valour,  and  their  many 
virtues:  all  these  combined  make  Neckarsteinach  not 
only  an  object  of  interest  to  strangers,  but  of  never- 
ending  delight  to  residents  of  the  neighbourhood. 

Karl  Hoffmann  had  described  the  place  to  Caroline 
and  her  mother  the  evening  before ;  and  they,  who, 
following  the  physician's  advice,  had  driven  out  almost 
every  day,  declared,  after  what  they  had  heard,  that 
they  immediately  would  visit  so  charming  a  place, 
and  not  leave  it,  as  they  had  hitherto  intended,  till 
their  friends  the  Wilkinsons  would  go  with  them.  A 
party  of  the  Hoffmanns'  friends  were  going  there  in 
a  day  or  two ;  the  Hoffmanns  were  going  with  them, 
and  Karl's  wish  now  was,  that  Mrs.  Palmer  and  her 
daughter  should  be  invited  to  take  half  their  carriage, 
and  thus  to  join  what  Caroline  had  repeatedly  ex- 
pressed a  wish  for — a  real  German  party  into  the 
country. 

Mrs.  Hoffmann,  however,  had  got  up  this  morning, 
as  we  have  seen,  with,  as  she  said,  "  her  eyes 
opened,"  and  therefore  she  would  not  consent  to 
her  son's  proposition,  and  was  furthermore  bent  upon 
dropping  the  Palmers'  acquaintance  altogether. .  But 
how  very  little  can  people  make  sure  of  their  own 
actions!  Even  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  with  all  her  preju- 
dices, was  a  proof  of  this. 

That  afternoon  a  lively  tap  at  her  door,  and  the 
customary  "  Herein,"  from  herself,  brought  in  Caro- 
line Palmer,  who,  with  a  countenance  beaming  with 
pleasure,  came  in,  in  the  first  place  she  said,  know- 
ing the  kind  interest  Mrs.  Hoffmann  took  about  them, 
to  tell  her  that  they  that  morning  had  received  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  "Wilkinson,  announcing  their  positive  arrival 
6 


62  A  PARTY  OF   PLEASURE. 

in  a  very  fev^days.  "  A  charming  letter  it  is,"  said  Ca- 
roline. "  It  has  made  poor  mamma  quite  well;  and 
she  is  now  btasy  giving  orders  to  two  women  about 
the  Wilkinsons'  rooms  being  made  quite  ready.  It 
is  the  third  time  mamma  has  had  them  prepared,  but 
this  time,  I  think,  it  will  not  be  in  vain.  I  feel  sure 
they  will  come — mamma  thinks  about  Monday,  as  Mrs. 
"Wilkinson  generally  travels  on  a  Sunday;  she  says 
the  country  is  on  that  day  so  much  more  lively,  so 
much  more  full  of  peasants,  or  rather  the  peasants  so 
much  more  visible — all  smart  and  bright,  in  their 
holiday  dresses.  Yes,  I  really  think  they  will  come 
this  time." 

Mrs.  Hoffmann  expressed  sympathy  with  Caroline's 
hope,  and  she  did  it  with  sincerity ;  for,  spite  of  all 
she  had  said  in  the  morning,  the  very  tone  of  her 
voice,  the  truthful  expression  of  her  eyes,  when  she 
gave  Mrs.  Hoffmann  credit  for  taking  part  in  their 
happiness,  brought  back  at  once  all  the  kind  senti- 
ment she  had  ever  felt  towards  her. 

"  And  now,  dear  Mrs.  Hoffmann,"  said  Caroline, 
"  after  having  told  you  of  the  expected  pleasure,  I  am 
to  present  mamma's  best  compliments,  and  to  prefer 
a  request  in  which  I  sincerely  join.  Will  you  and 
Mr.  Karl  give  us  your  company  to  Neckarsteinacii 
to-morrow  afternoon  ?  After  what  he  said  of  that 
sweet  place,  we  can  no  longer  delay  a  visit  to  it ;  the 
carriage  is  already  ordered;  and,  having  thus  seen  it, 
we  shall  only  be  the  better  cicerones  for  our  friends ; 
but  perhaps  we  are  unreasonable;  we  want  the 
pleasure  to-morrow  to  be  made  doubly  great,  by  the 
charm  of  agreeable  companions ;  we  want,  in  short, 
you  to  go  with  us.  Surely  you  will  not  refuse 
us!"  said  she,  laying  her  hand  on  Mrs.  Hoffmann's, 
in  whose  eye  she  fancied  she  saw  the  shadow  of  s 
refusal. 


A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE.  G3 

Poor  Mrs.  Hoffmann  !  she  knew  not  what  to  do. 
Two  opposite  feelings  were  at  work  in  her  mind — the 
will  to  oblige  Caroline,  towards  whom  her  heart 
always  softened,  and  the  desire  to  keep  up  an  appear- 
ance of  consistency  with  what  she  had  that  very 
morning  expressed  to  her  son  ;  but  Caroline's  gentle, 
beseeching  eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  her,  and  the 
acquiescence  of  her  reply  went  even  beyond  what  she 
herself  intended. 

"  It  is  rather  singular,  Miss  Palmer,"  said  she, 
"  but  I  and  my  son  have  had  some  conversation 
about  an  excursion  to  Neckarsteinach,  but  a  few  hours 
ago." 

Caroline's  eyes  brightened. 

"  But  I  must  express  a  little  difficulty  to  you,  ' 
continued  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  to  whom  it  had  instantly 
occurred,  that  perhaps  Mrs.  Palmer  herself  might 
object  to  join  a  German  party,  and  that  she  and  her 
son  being  already  engaged  to  such  a  one,  might  thus 
easily  hold  themselves  excused;  "a  small  party  of 
our  friends  have  for  some  weeks  planned  an  excursion 
to  Neckarsteinach  in  which  we  have  promised  to  join. 
They  have  fixed  upon  the  day  after  to-morrow — 
Saturday;  now,  I  am  sorry  for  it,  but  two  days  suc- 
cessively at  Neckarsteinach  would  be  too  much  for 
me.  My  son  proposed  asking  you  and  your  mother 
to  join  the  party,  but  all  are  strangers  to  you,  ex- 
cepting ourselves — all  Germans ;  two  of  them  young 
men,  friends  of  my  son's ;  and  such  a  party  would 
hardly  be  agreeable  to  you — certainly  not  to  Mrs. 
Palmer." 

"Am  I  to  understand,"  asked  Caroline,  "  that  sup- 
posing mamma  liked  to  join  your  party,  that  you  give 
us  an  invitation  to  do  so  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  returned  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  a  little  per- 
plexed by   Caroline's  zeal ;   "  but  I  must  warn  you 


64  A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE. 

that  all  are  Germans — and  not  grand  people,  by  any 
means,"  added  she,  with  a  very  peculiar  smile. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me,"  said  Caroline,  "  I  will 
mention  it  to  mamma,  and  return  immediately  with 
her  answer."  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  of  course,  appeared 
most  anxious  that  she  should  do  so. 

"  I  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer  to  her  daughter, 
when  she  had  heard  of  Mrs.  Hoffmann's  proposal, 
"  should  not  like  to  go  with  such  a  party — queerly 
dressed  German  women,  and  smoking  German  men — 
all  coarse,  ill-dressed,  and  odd-looking  as  these  Ger- 
mans are,  if  the  Wilkinsons  were  here ;  but  as  it  is, 
and  I  feel  pretty  sure  that  they  will  not  come  till 
about  Monday  or  Tuesday,  and  you  wish  for  it  so 
much,  I  don't  mind;  only  recollect  this,  that  I  pay 
for  the  carriage,  and  that  nobody  goes  with  us  but 
the  Hoffmanns :  I  invite  them  to  two  seats  in  it,  and 
thus  we  shall  be  secure.  But  you  must  send  Gretchen 
and  postpone  the  order  for  the  carriage  till  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  unless  Mrs.  Hoffmann  can  get  the 
party  arranged  for  to-morrow,  which  would  be  much 
better,  in  case  the  Wilkinsons  should  come  on  the 
Saturday;  do,  love,  try  and  get  it  so  arranged;  I  dare 
say  it  will  not  matter  to  any  one  its  being  a  day 
earlier,  and  it  is  of  consequence  to  me." 

When  Caroline  returned  to '  the  third  floor,  she 
found  Karl  with  his  mother;  she  put  Mrs.  Palmer's 
proposition  in  the  politest  and  most  agreeable  form. 
Mrs.  Hoffmann  said  nothing;  she  went  on  with  her 
knitting,  smiling  to  herself;  but  Karl  was  full  of 
enthusiasm.  He  was  sure  the  party  would  be  every 
way  charming;  he  greatly  approved  of  the  alteration 
in  the  day;  a  pleasure  was  always  the  greater,  taken 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment ;  he  could  answer  for  the 
willingness  of  all  his  friends  to  go  a  day  earlier ;  cne 
only  people  to  whom  it  might  be  inconvenient  wo»e 


A  TARTY  OF   PLEASURE.  65 

the  only  people,  he  said,  who  with  advantage  might 
be  dropped  from  the  party.  lie  would  undertake  the 
whole  arrangement;  and,  as  the  weather  was  so 
splendid,  just  hot  enough,  just  bright  enough,  and 
not  dusty,  after  last  night's  rain,  it  was  sure  to  be 
a  most  charming  and  most  successful  excursion  !  It 
was  always  a  pleasure  to  him,  he  said,  to  go  to 
Neckarsteinach  with  people  of  taste  and  feeling — 
especially  with  such  people  for  the  first  time.  So, 
taking  his  hat,  he  said  he  would  go  instantly  and 
arrange  everything,  and,  with  Miss  Palmer's  per- 
mission, look  in  for  five  minutes  in  the  evening,  and 
tell  her  what  he  had  done. 

The  five  minutes  in  the  evening  lengthened  them- 
selves to  two  hours.  Karl  had,  of  course,  arranged 
everything  for  the  morrow  most  happily.  He  was  in 
the  most  buoyant  spirits.  Caroline  played  and  sang 
— Karl  sang  also,  and  Mrs.  Palmer  went  into  raptures 
at  finding  a  resemblance  between  his  singing  and 
that  of  the  favourite  of  her  younger  years,  "  the  never- 
to-be-excelled  Braham."  She  quite  forgot  that  she 
had  so  lately  been  an  invalid ;  she  was  charmed  with 
Karl,  she  was  charmed  with  all  the  world;  for  the 
Wilkinsons  were  coming ;  and  many  and  many  a 
little  anecdote  she  told,  to  convince  her  visiter  that 
the  most  munificent,  the  most  princely  nation  under 
the  sun  were  the  English,  and  that,  of  all  the  English, 
the  Wilkinsons  were  the  most  princely  afid  munificent. 

There  was  rain  on  the  morning  of  the  next  day— 
down-pouring  rain,  that  from  six  till  nine  o'clock  fell 
upon  the  broad  June  leaves,  with  a  sough  that  was 
heard  within  doors.  Many  and  many  were  the 
anxious  looks  which  both  Karl  and  Caroline  cast 
from  their  windows,  both  up  to  the  sky  and  down  to 
the  ecrth ;  and,  if  it  rained  in  this  way  all  day,  there 
was  certainly  an  end  to  the  Neckarsteinach  expedition ; 


66  A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE. 

and,  once  being  put  off,  perhaps  it  might  never  be 
made  at  all.  How  all-important  does  an  afternoon's 
excursion  seem  to  the  young!  As  to  Mrs.  Palmer, 
she  was  in  bed  taking  her  breakfast  very  comfort- 
ably,  and  with  great  equanimity,  and  replied  to  her 
daughter's  anxiety,  "  Well,  love,  and  even  if  it  do 
rain,  I  do  not  very  much  care.  I  have  no  great  fancy 
for  this  German  party.  I  should  have  liked  it  much 
better  if  we  had  gone  alone,  or,  at  all  events,  only  the 
Hoffmanns  with  us.  I  am  only  so  far  anxious  about 
the  weather,  as  that  it  should  be  fine  when  the  Wil- 
kinsons arrive;  the  pleasantest  places  in  the  world 
always  look  cheerless  in  wet  weather;  and  as  people 
say  it  always  rains  at  Heidelberg,  I  must  confess,  on 
account  of  our  friends'  first  impressions,  I  hope  it 
may  be  fine — at  least  on  the  day  when  they  come." 

It  was  much  in  the  same  spirit  that  good  Mrs. 
Hoffmann,  above  stairs,  spoke  of  the  rain  to  her  son 
during  breakfast.  "  Never  trouble  yourself  about  the 
weather,  Karl,"  said  she;  "it  will  be  fine  most  likely 
long  before  noon ;  and  even  if  it  be  not,  it  is  not  of 
any  great  consequence.  I  never  like  altering  days, 
even  of  so  unimportant  a  thing  as  a  party  of  pleasure ; 
and  I  think  it  such  a  pity  that  poor  Mrs.  Von  Holz- 
hauser  cannot  now  go,  so  seldom  as  she  has  a  day  of 
pleasure !" 

Karl  said  he  was  sorry  too,  but  he  hoped  it  was 
not  so  very  great  a  disappointment  to  her. 

"  She  took  care  that  you  should  not  see  it,"  said 
his  mother,  "  for  I  am  sure  she  thought  much  of  this 
little  excursion — perhaps  the  only  excursion  that  may 
be  offered  her  this  summer — and  she  had  made  her 
arrangements,  you  see,  to  be  at  liberty  to-morrow. 
She -cannot  alter,  and  then  alter  again  with  her  pupils, 
poor  woman!  It  is  a  thousand  pities  that  she  must 
be  disappointed;  but  this  all  comes  of  making  these 


A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE.  67 

English  people  a  party  with  us.  I  am  very  much 
vexed  that  they  are  going;  and  if  it  rain  all  day,  it  is 
of  no  great  consequence!" 

However,  it  did  not  rain  all  day.  After  nine  o'clock 
the  clouds  grew  thinner  and  thinner;  glimpses  ot 
blue  sky  were  seen,  and  faint  shadows  of  the  window- 
frames,  cast  slantingly  along  the  floor,  gave  certain 
intimation  that  the  sun  was  in  the  sky,  and  was  very 
much  disposed  to  shine.  By  eleven  every  cloud,  and 
every  trace  of  a  cloud,  was  gone  ;  and  already,  in  the 
warm  splendour  of  the  advancing  noon,  the  streets 
were  dried,  the  trees  also  were  dried,  and  only  the 
bright  green  of  the  leaves,  the  bright  hues  of  the 
flowers,  and  the  deep  colour  of  the  earth,  told  that 
rain  had  fallen  that  morning.  Every  one  of  the  party- 
expectant  foreboded  a  wonderfully  fine  and  pleasant 
afternoon ;  and  good  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser,  the  only 
elderly  person  who  had  looked  forward  to  the  excur- 
sion with  anything  like  impatience — for  to  her  a 
pleasure  and  a  holiday  came  but  seldom — rejoiced, 
for  the  sake  of  the  young  people,  that  the  day  would 
not  prove  a  disappointment. 

At  two  o'clock  the  party  set  out,  every  one  appa- 
rently in  the  best  of  humour.  There  were  three 
carriages — six  worthy  souls,  young  and  old,  in  two 
of  them — and  four,  the  Palmers  and  the  Hoffmanns, 
in  the  other. 

"  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  any  of  these 
good  people,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer  to  Mrs.  Hoffmann, 
as  immediately  they  passed  the  Carl's  Thor.  The 
other  two  carriages  relaxed  their  speed,  in  order  that 
Mrs.  Palmer  might  take  the  lead;  and  the  gentlemen 
all,  of  course,  bowed,  and  the  ladies  smiled  with  the 
utmost  good  humour. 

"  Many  of  them  are  familiar  faces  to  me,"  said 
Caroline;  "  the  two  old  ladies  in  the  second  carriage, 


68  A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE. 

the  stout  gentleman,  the  pretty  girl  in  the  pink  bonnet, 
and  the  two  young  men  in  the  last  carriage  that  Ave 
passed,  are  all  old  acquaintance  of  mine.  I  have 
often  seen  them  call  on  you,  Mrs.  Hoffmann,"  said 
she ;  "  the  old  gentleman  has  such  a  noble,  benevo- 
lent head,  and  the  old  ladies  look  so  German,  and  sc 
kind!" 

"  The  old  gentleman,"  said  Karl,  "  is  one  of  our 
best-known  professors,  in  his  particular  branch ;  his 
name  is  familiar  through  Europe ;  one  of  the  o.d 
lad'jes  is  his  wife ;  the  other  is  the  widow  of  a  professor 
who,  in  his  day,  was  not  less  renowned  than  the  one 
I  have  just  spoken  of;  the  young  girl  in  the  pink 
bonnet  is  niece  to  the  professor's  widow  :  her  mother 
is  not  living,  and  her  father  is  a  Herr  Geheimerath,  or 
privy  councillor  ;  and,  as  he  is  a  good  deal  at  Carlsruhe, 
she  spends  much  of  her  time  with  her  aunt." 

"  Or  rather,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  "  the 
aunt  spends  much  of  her  time  with  her ;  for  there  are 
no  less  than  seven  children,  of  which  this  young  grr 
is  the  eldest :  she  is  an  excellent  creature!" 

"  A  most  amiable  girl,"  said  Karl,  with  some  en 
thusiasm,   "  and  as  well  educated  as  she  is  amiable!" 

Caroline  wondered  whether  Karl  Hoffmann  had 
any  particular  reason  for  praising  the  young  lady  in 
the  pink  bonnet  so  warmly  ;  but  as  she  could  not  ask, 
and  he  seemed  not  inclined  to  continue  the  subject,  it 
dropped.  "  And  the  two  young  men  in  the  same 
carriage,"  said  she  smiling;  "I  think  they  are  friends 
of  yours,  Mr.  Hoffmann;  I  think  they  are  the 
same  who  were  with  you  the  evening  you  returned 
after  your  examination.  How  very  German  they 
look ! — at  least  according  to  all  my  notions  of  young 
Germans ;  the  long  hair  and  the  moustache  is  sc 
becoming  to  some  faces !  I  think  one  of  your  friends 
—he  without  the  moustache — worthy  to  be  a  head  ol 


A  PARTY  OF  1'LEASURE.  G9 

Raphael's.  Suppose  his  portrait  the  head  of  a  young 
painter — suppose  it  the  ideal  head  of  an  Athenian 
artist  in  the  days  of  Pericles — how  fine,  how  spiritual, 
we  should  say  it  was!" 

"  True,"  said  Karl ;  "  he  is  Von  Rosenberg,  one  of 
my  best  friends.  He  is  a  noble-hearted  fellow,  of  an 
old  family,  and  is  devoted  to  music.  His  history  ig 
a  most  interesting  one.  He  has  maintained  himself 
ever  since  he  was  eighteen.  He  is  a  fine  fellow 
every  way." 

"And  the  other,"  asked  Caroline,  "what  is  his 
name?  for,  in  the  first  place,  I  am  always  curious 
about  names.  I  have  a  little  theory  that  names 
always  resemble  the  persons  who  bear  them — Von 
Rosenberg  suits  your  friend  admirably." 

"  His  name  is  no  way  remarkable,"  said  Karl;  "it 
is  Feldmann.  He  is  my  oldest  friend;  we  were  play- 
fellows together  when  boys;  we  were  gymnasium 
scholars  together;  we  have  been  fellow-students; 
what  more  was  needed  to  make  us  friends?  Feldmann 
is  a  very  different  character  to  Von  Rosenberg;  he  is 
the  most  buoyant,  happy  being  that  ever  lived ;  he  is 
one  born  to  be  fortunate ;  all  that  he  plans  succeeds ; 
all  that  he  undertakes  he  carries  through.  The  ship 
could  not  be  wrecked  in  which  Feldmann  was!  Poor 
Von  Rosenberg !  even  as  a  boy,  he  knew  many  hard- 
ships and  sorrows ;  he  has  already  known  grave  dis- 
appointments ;  unfortunately  he  distrusts  himself  too 
much  to  be  successful.  If  he  had  more  confidence  in 
himself,  he  would  be  one  of  the  finest  and  most 
original  of  our  modern  composers.  Poor  fellow!" 
6aid  Karl,  in  somewhat  a  lower  voice,  "  whether  he 
shall  be  the  most  happy  or  the  most  miserable  of 
men,  wavers  now  in,  I  fear,  an  uncertain  balance. 
If  the  scale  fall  in  his  favour,  I  would  venture  to 
foretell  for  him  the  most  splendid  career;  success. 


70  A  PARTY  OF   PLEASURE. 

which  ruins  so  many  men,  would  be  the  making  of 
him :  if  it  fall  against  him,  he  is  doubly  unfortunate ; 
but  come  what  will,  he  has  one  of  the  noblest  hearts 
that  ever  beat  in  a  human  bosom!" 

"  You  interest  me  greatly  for  this  young  man," 
said  she. 

"He  deserves  it,"  replied  Hoffmann;  "and  my 
light-hearted  Feldmann  deserves  it  no  less." 

"You  are  fortunate,"  said  she,  "to  have  such 
friends."  < 

"  Come,  come,  young  people,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer, 
"if  you  are  to  be  talking  sentiment  all  the  time,  what 
will  you  see  of  the  beauties  of  the  country?  and  I 
must  warn  you,  Mr.  Hoffmann,  that  if  you  indulge 
Lina  in  sketching  every  character  you  know,  you 
may  never  have  done.  It  is  Lina's  favourite  topic  of 
conversation." 

Caroline  blushed,  for  she  remembered  sketching  Mrs. 
Wilkinson's  character,  at  least  in  slight  outline,  as  far 
as  she  knew  it,  to  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  and  Mrs.  Hoffmann 
smiled  likewise,  for  she  remembered  the  same  tiling. 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  where  are  we  going?"  screamed 
Mrs.  Palmer,  clinging  to  the  side  of  the  carriage,  with 
a  countenance  of  the  utmost  alarm,  as  the  carriage, 
having  passed  through  the  small  city,  or  rather  village 
of  Neckargemiind,  made  a  sudden  turn,  and  rapid 
descent,  to  the  ferry  over  the  river.  "  Here  I  cannot, 
will  not  go,"  screamed  the  terrified  lady ;  "stop  the 
driver  instantly,  Mr.  Hoffmann,  for  it  is  as  much  as 
my  life  is  worth  to  venture  over  this  horrid  place!" 

With  great  difficulty  the  driver  stopped  his  horses, 
and  drew  aside  to  allow  the  other  carriages  to  take 
the  advance  in  the  ferry-boat, 

"  Is  there  no  other  way  of  getting  to  Neckarsteinach, 
but  over  this  frightful  ferry?"  asked  she.  She  was 
assured  there  was  not  for  a  carriage,  but  that  there 


A  PARTY  OF   PLEASURE.  1 L 

was  not  the  slightest  danger.  "  I  was  once  overset 
in  a  ferry-boat,"  said  she;  "I  as  near  lost  my  lite 
as  possible;  and  I  have  never  ventured  over  in  one 
since,  nor  will  I.  Leave  me  behind  if  you  will,  but 
over  it  I  will  not  go  !" 

"  Let  the  carriage  go  first,"  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann, 
"and  we  will  come  over  afterwards  alone." 

"  No,  no,"  still  persisted  the  positive  Mrs.  Palmer, 
"  I  dare  not  venture." 

"  The  other  carriages  are  both  safe  over,  dearest 
mamma;  do  let  us  venture,"  remonstrated  Caroline. 
Karl  also  assured  her  that  they  should  get  over  equally 
safe,  but  it  was  of  no  avail. 

"Does  Neckarsteinach  lie  on  the  river?"  asked 
Caroline.  She  was  answered  that  it  did.  "  Would 
you  not  venture  up  in  a  boat?"  inquired  she,  quite 
disconcerted  by  this  unfortunate  delay  which  her 
mother  occasioned ;  "  only  think  of  all  our  charming 
boating-parties  in  England!  Could  we  not  get  a 
boat?"  asked  she  of  Hoffmann. 

"  Nonsense!  child,"  said  her  mother;  "  let  me  stay 
behind  ;  nobody  will  miss  me  ;  the  sight  of  this  ferry 
has  taken  away  all  my  desire  to  go.  Is  there  no  inn 
or  house  where  I  can  stay  till  your  return?" 

Karl,  with  the  utmost  good  temper,  said  h-  was 
impossible  that  Mrs.  Palmer  could  be  left  behind; 
that  if  she  would  go  in  a  boat,  he  would  immediately 
obtain  one.  Mrs.  Hoffmann  said  that  she  should  not 
wish  to  go  in  a  boat  so  far;  that  perhaps  one  of  the 
gentlemen  in  one  of  the  other  carriages  would  give 
her  his  place,  and  go  with  them  in  the  boat;  and  that, 
for  her  part,  she  thought  there  was  more  danger  in 
the  boat  than  on  the  ferry.  Caroline  again  remon- 
strated and  persuaded,  but  to  no  purpose.  Mrs. 
Palmer's  fears,  however  foolifh,  were  sincere ;  and  at 
last,  tired  with  her  daughter's  remonstrances,  she  grew 


72  A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE 

angry,  and  protested  "  that  she  was  sorry  to  cause 
annoyance  to  anybody ;  that  she  ought  to  have  been 
told  of  the  ferry,  for,  in  that  case,  she  would  not  have 
come!" 

Karl  had  already  ordered  a  boat;  so,  assisting  his 
mother  to  dismount,  he  accompanied  her  across  the 
ferry;  and,  whilst  poor  Caroline  was  hoping  that  iheh 
companions  did  not  think  her  mother  altogether  unrea- 
sonable and  troublesome,  and  poor  Mrs.  Palmer,  in  a 
self-deprecating  tone  of  voice,  was  relating  the  adven- 
ture on  the  ferry-boat,  twenty  years  before,  which 
would  haunt  her,  she  said,  with  fears  to  the  very  day 
of  her  death,  Karl  was  making  excuses,  and  offering 
palliatives  for  Mrs.  Palmer's  childish  apprehensions, 
both  to  himself  and  all  the  rest  of  the  party. 

There  was  a  deal  of  talking  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  and  a  long  delay ;  at  least,  so  it  seemed  both  to 
Caroline  and  her  mother;  but  at  length  Karl  returned 
with  not  only  ane  of  his  friends,  but  with  both,  and 
with  the  pretty  young  lady  in  the  pink  bonnet  also; 
all  three  declaring,  with  the  most  perfect  good  humour, 
that  nothing  in  the  world  would  charm  them  so  much 
as  a  row  up  the  river ;  and,  being  received  very  gra- 
ciously by  Mrs.  Palmer,  and  by  Caroline  with  more 
than  her  common  cdrdiality — for  she  felt  as  if  she  had 
a  double  duty  of  agreeableness  and  friendship  to  per- 
form to  everybody,  after  what  had  happened — all 
took  their  seats  in  the  boat,  and  the  carriage  being 
ordered  to  await  their  return,  they  sailed  pleasantly 
up  the  river. 

Mrs.  Palmer,  however,  had  been  flurried  and 
excited ;  and,  though  she  seemed  in  high  spiribs,  there 
was  an  under-current  of  vexation  and  ill-humour 
ready  at  any  untoward  occurrence  to  break  out:  if 
none  of  the  others  were  aware  of  this,  her  daughter 
was,  -and  it  kept  her  painfully  watchful  and  anxious 


A  PARTY  OF   PLEASURE.  73 

But  Hoffmann  and  his  two  friends,  and  the  Herr 
Geheimrath's  daughter,  all  seemed  in  such  perfect 
good  humour — so  unannuyed  by  vexations,  either  past 
or  to  come — that  she  determined,  if  possible,  to  imitate 
their  example,  and  enjoy  the  present  moment  at  least. 

How  beautifully  burst  the  scene  upon  them  as  they 
made  the  turn  of  the  river  at  the  foot  of  Diilsberg! 
There  stood  the  castles  hi  their  varied  degrees  of  anti- 
quity, lying  partly  in  broad  light,  and  partly  in  deep 
shadow,  crowning  the  rocks  and  bosomed  in  wood — 
the  swallow's  nest,  the  raven's  castle,  and  the  beau- 
tiful modernized  castle  of  the  Baron  Von  Dort,  with 
its  nameless  ruins  beyond !  Caroline  was  delighted : 
it  required,  at  that  moment,  no  effort  to  forget  all  the 
late  vexation;  even  Mrs.  Hoffmann's  countenance, 
glancing  at  her  son  a  look  of  disgust  and  annoyance, 
as  he  helped  her  to  dismount,  the  circumstance,  per- 
haps, of  all  others,  that  had  most  disconcerted  her — 
was  forgotten.  The  party  Ijowever,  which  was  wait- 
ing for  them  at  their  place  of  landing,  recalled  her  to 
the  past,  and  convinced  her,  at  the  first  glance,  that 
the  spirit  of  discontent  was  active  among  them.  They 
were  received  almost  without  question  or  welcome; 
and,  no  sooner  had  they  landed,  than  all  turned  and 
began  immediately  to  ascend  to  the  castles. 

"I  am  sure  they  have  been  waiting  a  long  time," 
said  Caroline  to  her  mother. 

"Well,  my  dear,  they  need  not  have  waited,"  was 
her  mother's  somewhat  uncourteous  reply. 

"  I  fear  you  have  waited  long  for  us,"  said  Caroline  to 
Mrs.  Hoffmann,  in  a  very  gentle  and  deprecating  tone. 

"  Not  quite  an  hour,"  replied  she  coolly;  "  the 
river  is  much  farther  than  the  road;  parties  do  not 
commonly  divide  in  this  way!" 

How  reproved  poor  Caroline  felt!  she  thought  at 
the  moment  that  it  was  unkind  of  Mrs.  Hoffmann  to 
7 


74  A  PARTY  OF  PLEASURE. 

speak  thus  to  her,  who  truly  was  not  to  blame;  so, 
withdrawing  again  to  her  mother's  side,  they  walked 
on  in  silence. 

Karl  seemed  happy  enough — so  did  his  friends — ■ 
so  did  the  young  lady  in  the  pink  bonnet.  The  old 
ladies,  the  old  gentleman,  and  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  went 
on  sometimes  together,  and  sometimes  singly,  and 
sometimes  they  joined  Caroline  and  her  mother,  and 
talked  with  them.  How  was  it,  Caroline  questioned 
with  herself,  that  she  was  unsatisfied  and  uneasy? 
that  a  feeling  as  of  disappointment  and  repulse  lay  at 
the  bottom  of  her  heart  ?  She  thought  the  fault  must 
be  in  herself;  so  she  talked  to  every  one,  and  laughed, 
and  gathered  wild  berries  and  wild  flowers,  and  sin- 
cerely admired  the  beauty  of  the  place — the  deep, 
secluded,  old-world  vallies  that  lie  northward,  the  pic- 
turesqueness  of  every  ruin — and  listened  with  interest 
to  every  legend  of  the  place  which  Karl  Hoffmann  or 
any  one  else  of  the  party  related.  But  oh,  what  a 
difference  is  there  between  trying  to  be  pleased,  and 
being  pleased  without  an  effort !  She  still  was  haunted 
by  Mrs.  Hoffmann's  countenance,  and  by  the  few 
words  she  had  spoken  so  coldly ; — nay,  even  it  seemed 
to  her  that  Karl's  gaiety  was  assumed — was  greater 
than  the  occasion  called  for,  and  it  really  was  only 
worn  to  set  her  at  ease,  or  to  hide  his  own  vexation ; 
and  thus,  spite  of  her  sincerest  wish  to  be  happy,  she 
remained  ill  at  ease. 

They  all  took  coffee,  and  eat  fruit  at  Neckarsteinach, 
and  then  prepared  to  return.  Mrs.  Palmer,  and  the 
same  party  who  had  attended  her  before,  of  course  by 
water ;  but  as,  this  time,  they  set  off  earlier  than  their 
friends,  and  went  down  with  the  current,  they  arrived 
at  the  ferry  before  them,  and  hoped  to  be  in  their  car- 
riage ready  to  drive  along  with  them  without  any  delay. 
But  it  was  destined,  altogether,  to  be  a  day  of  unlooked- 


A  PARTY  OF    PLEASURE.  75 

for  occurrences.  From  the  ferry  they  intended  to 
walk  to  the  inn,  but  a  great  bustle  in  the  street  pre- 
vented their  advance.  A  travelling  carriage  stood 
there  with  all  the  villagers  crowded  about  it ;  evidently 
some  disaster  had  occurred.  The  men-servants  had 
dismounted,  so, had  a  gentleman  from  the  inside;  one 
of  the  four  horses  had  suddenly  died,  and  was  being 
removed.  A  lady,  the  sole  occupant  of  the  carriage, 
was  leaning  back,  evidently  wishing  to  see  nothing  ot 
what  went  forward,  her  face  concealed  by  a  large  tra- 
velling-bonnet. Presently  a  carriage  with  other  ser- 
vants and  luggage  came  up ;  it  drew  up  for  a  moment, 
received  orders  from  the  gentleman,  and  from  the  lady 
also,  and  then  drove  on  rapidly.  There  was  some 
difficulty  about  another  horse  to  supply  the  place  of 
the  one  which  was  wanting,  and  so  much  bustle  and 
confusion,  that  Karl,  after  several  ineffectual  efforts  to 
gain  attention,  drew  back  to  his  party,  thinking  it 
better  to  wait  till  the  strangers  were  satisfied  and  gone. 
Then  suddenly,  as  if  an  idea  had  struck  him,  he  turned 
to  Caroline,  and  inquired  the  name  of  their  English 
friends.      "Wilkinson,"  was  her  reply. 

"These,  then,  are  they,"  said  Karl;  "the  lady  was 
addressed  by  that  name." 

"What  is  that  you  say?"  eagerly  inquired  Mrs. 
Palmer,  who  caught  at  the  idea  at  once,  "  the  Wil- 
kinsons here!     Do  inquire!" 

Karl  inquired ;  he  was  right. 

"Take  my  card,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  "and  give  it 
to  the  lady  in  the  carriage ;  there  is  such  a  crowd,  I 
cannot  go  myself!" 

Hoffmann  did  as  he  was  requested ;  and,  the  moment 
the  lady  read  the  card,  she  raised  herself  suddenly  in 
the  carriage,  exclaiming,  "Where — where  is  dear 
Mrs.  Palmer?" 

The  crowd  gave  way  before  Mrs.  Palmer  and  hei 


76  KIND    HEARTS. 

daughter ;  the  carriage  door  was  opened,  the  steps  let 
down,  and  the  two  ladies,  as  if  by  instinct,  hurried 
in,  the  hand  of  each  grasped  eagerly  and  warmly  by 
the  lady  as  they  entered.  The  gentleman  who  had 
dismounted  sprang  in,  the  door  was  closed,  the  ser- 
vants took  their  seats,  and  away  all  drove,  leaving  the 
dead  horse  on  the  side  of  the  street,  an  object  of 
curiosity  to  the  people,  now  that  the  carriage  was 
gone,  and  leaving  Karl  both  vexed  and  surprised. 

Mrs.  Hoffmann,  Karl,  and  his  two  friends,  and  the 
young  lady  in  the  pink  bonnet,  occupied  the  Palmers' 
carriage  from  Neckargemiind.  Mrs.  Hoffmann  said 
very  little  on  their  homeward  drive,  nor  did  her  son. 

They  needed  not  to  have  seen  the  Wilkinsons' 
arrival  at  Neckargemund,  to  have  assured  them  of  the 
fact  as  they  arrived  at  home.  The  carriage  with  lug- 
gage, from  which  the  horses  were  taken,  still  stood  at 
the  door;  servants  were  carrying  in,  and  up  stairs, 
large  travelling-cases;  there  was  a  bustle  and  a  stir, 
and  an  agitation  through  the  whole  of  the  house,  that 
gave  abundant  evidence  of  the  great  people's  arrival. 


CHAPTER  V. 

KIND      HEARTS. 

The  next  morning,  Karl  Hoffmann  argued  with  his 
mother  at  the  breakfast  table,  to  prove — and  that  not 
quite  against  his  own  conviction — that  the  mere  fact  of 
Mrs.  Palmer  and  her  daughter  returning  from  Neck- 
argemiind with  their  friends,  was  neither  uncourteous 
nor  strange. 

"  It  was  but  natural,"  said  he  ;  "I  should  have  done 
the  same  thing  myself  most  likely.  Everybody  pre- 
fers old  friends  to  new  ones." 

"But  if  you  treated  your  new  friends  with  discour- 


KIND    HEARTS.  77 

tesy  —to  say  nothing  of  absolute  rudeness,  Karl — they 
would  be  greatly  wanting  in  self-respect,  if  they  ever 
gave  you  a  second  opportunity  to  do  so;  and  thus 
my  argument  merely  ends  where  it  began — I  have 
done  with  these  English  people." 

Fortunately  for  Karl,  his  friend  Von  Rosenberg  at 
that  moment  came  in,  to  invite  him  to  a  long  day's 
ramble  into  the  hills.  There  was  a  gravity  and  ear- 
nestness in  his  countenance,  which  told  Karl  there 
was  something  of  deep  moment  on  his  mind;  Mrs. 
Hoffmann  saw  nothing  of  this,  and,  though  Von  Rosen- 
berg declined  to  sit  down,  because  Karl  was  imme- 
diately ready  to  accompany  him,  and  both  young  men 
stood  with  their  hats  and  their  sticks  in  their  hands, 
she  insisted  upon  knowing,  before  they  went,  what 
was  Von  Rosenberg's  opinion  of  the  English  ladies 
the  last  afternoon.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders;  but 
a  secret  intelligence  must  have  passed  between  him 
and  his  friend,  for  he  immediately  replied  by  taking 
Karl's  view  of  the  case,  and  argued  for  five  minutes, 
even  more  strenuously  than  he  himself  had  done,  to 
prove  that  they  had  done  not  only  what  was  reason- 
able, but  what  was  right  also. 

"Away  with  you,  for  two  wrong-headed  philoso- 
phers !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  smiling  in  perfect 
good  humour;  "when  I  want  special  pleading,  I'll 
come  to  you ;  but  when  I  want  only  the  plain  com- 
mon sense  of  a  question,  I'll  reason  for  myself." 

The  young  men  smiled,  bowed,  and  withdrew;  and 
she,  with  a  smile  still  on  her  lips — for  she  was  thinking 
with  affection  on  her  son  and  his  friend — busied  her- 
self in  putting  aside  the  breakfast  things.  Von  Rosen- 
berg linked  his  arm  into  Karl's  the  moment  they  were 
out  of  the  door,  and  both  walked  on  slowly,  as  ii 
falling  at  once  into  deep  and  confidential  communing, 
quite  unaware  of  the  observation  of  Caroline  Palmer, 


78  KIND    HEARTS. 

who  was  in  the  balcony  above  watering  her  flowers, 
which,  in  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  the  evening 
before,  had  been  quite  forgotten. 

The  afternoon's  excursion  had  been  altogether  unsa- 
tisfactory to  her ;  she  was  sure  that  her  mother's  need- 
less apprehensions  would  appear  childish,  if  not  ridi- 
culous, to  their  German  friends;  and  then,  to  crown 
all,  that  hurrying  away  at  last,  without  apology  or 
explanation,  with  their  English  friends,  though  in 
itself  perhaps  neither  unnatural  nor  blameable,  still, 
occurring  on  the  heels  of  the  other  cause  of  dissatis- 
faction, was  greatly  to  be  regretted.  Caroline  had 
wept  the  last  night  in  her  own  chamber,  for  mortifica- 
tion ;  but  what  good  did  that  do?  it  convinced  no 
kind  German  heart  whatever,  how  unwilling  she  must 
ever  be  to  displease  or  to  slight  them;  so  she  dried 
her  tears,  and  had  awoke  this  morning  with  some 
unpleasant  consciousness  still  remaining,  but  with  a 
half-hope  that  she  could  soon  prove  to  the  Hoffmanns 
that  she  was  as  kindly  disposed  to  them  as  ever.  She 
determined,  therefore,  as  soon  as  possible  after  break- 
fast, to  make  a  call  on  the  mother;  with  the  anxious 
hope,  however,  that  Karl  might  be  present,  for  she 
not  only  knew  him  much  more  reasonable,  much  more 
unprejudiced  than  his  mother,  but  she  had  long  since 
seen  also  that  her  wishes  were  almost  a  law  with  him — 
which  was  gratifying  to  her  vanity  and  self-love,  if 
not  to  any  deeper  and  nobler  sentiment.  She  made 
sure,  therefore,  that  with  a  little  skill  on  her  part,  she 
would  still  maintain  this  intimacy,  which  had  hitherto 
been  not  only  so  agreeable,  but  so  improving  to  her. 

It  was  therefore  with  no  slight  regret,  if  not  morti- 
fication, that  she  saw  him  go  out  thus  early  with  his 
friend,  and  in  that  peculiarly  confidential  manner, 
too ! — not  as  they  commonly  did,  looking  gaily  about 
them,  as  if  with  unburdened  hearts,  but  with  linked 


KIND    HEARTS.  79 

arms,  and  grave,  earnest  countenances.  It  seemed  at 
once  to  her,  as  if  they  were  talking  on  unpleasant 
subjects ,  and,  filled  as  her  mind  was  with  but  one 
unpleasant  subject,  it  is  no  wonder  that  she  troubled 
herself  with  the  fear  that  their  conference  might  be  on 
that.  She  wished  she  had  not  seen  them  thus  go  out; 
she  was  ashamed  to  confess  to  herself,  that  this  little 
circumstance  would  annoy  her  all  the  day ;  add  to 
which,  she  had  now  no  longer  confidence  as  to  the 
effect  of  her  call  on  Mrs.  Hoffmann.  Poor  Caroline! 
about  an  hour  afterwards  she  saw  Mrs.  Hoffmann  also 
go  out;  so  she  went  up  stairs,  and  made  a  call  in  her 
absence,  taking  with  her  a  beautiful  bouquet,  which 
she  gave  to  the  little  Bena,  with  strict  injunctions 
to  put  it  in  water,  and  set  it  on  Mrs.  Hoffmann's 
table,  and  to  give  her  love,  and  say  that  she  had  called 
to  inquire  after  Mrs.  Hoffmann's  health,  and  that  she 
was  extremely  sorry  not  to  find  her  in,  as  she  had  a 
great  deal  to  say  to  her.  Bena  promised  to  remember 
every  word,  and  to  put  the  flowers  in  a  very  pretty 
glass  of  water ;  and,  thinking  to  herself,  that  the  "  Eng- 
lish Fraulein"  was  a  great  deal  lovelier  even  than 
these  lovely  flowers,  she  watched  her  down  the  stairs, 
and  then  went  to  perform  her  promise. 

Karl  Hoffmann  ancj  his  friend  had  indeed  a  long  and 
very  deep  communing  that  morning,  on  a  very  impor- 
tant and  interesting  topic.  On  they  went  farther  and 
farther  among  the  wooded  hills,  till  they  came  to  the 
lonely  village  of  Wilhelm  Fells,  whence,  after  making, 
in  the  humble  wirthshaus  there,  a  most  rustic  dinner, 
they  again  walked  home,  taking  less  heed  that  day  than 
they  had  ever  done  before,  to  the  singularly  wild  and 
beautiful  ramble  they  had  chosen. 

Although  Caroline  Palmer  had  feared — perhaps  not 
unnaturally — that  she  and  her  mother  might  make  part, 
if  not  the  whole,  of  this  day's  conversation  between  the 


80  KIND    HEARTS.     , 

two  friends,  it  is  not  for  us  to  say  whether  she  would 
have  been  gratified  or  displeased  had  the  truth  been 
made  known  to  her,  trfat  only  very  incidentally,  through 
that  day,  were  their  names  mentioned  by  them.  It  was 
another  name  that  was  most  on  their  lips,  and  who  was 
the  sole  cause  of  this  day's  ramble  and  this  confiden- 
tial communing — it  was  the  name  of  the  pretty  young 
lady  in  the  pink  bonnet,  the  Herr  Geheimerath,  or 
privy  councillor's  daughter!  the  gentle  and  true- 
hearted  Pauline  Damian. 

The  handsome  English  carriage,  looking  bright  and 
clean,  as  if  new,  even  after  its  journey  out  of  Italy, with 
four  horses  and  two  attendants  seated  on  the  box,  in 
livery  somewhat  too  showy  for  good  taste,  having  taken 
Mrs. Wilkinson,  Arthur  Burnett,  and  the  two  Palmers 
for  a  morning-drive  to  Weinheim,  was  dashing  over  the 
bridge  of  the  Neckar  at  a  rate  which  terrified  the  quiet 
citizens,  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  as  Karl 
and  his  friend,  still  walking  arm  in  arm,  were  leisurely 
returning  home  from  their  ramble.  Caroline's  heart 
suddenly  beat  quicker,  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure.  The 
young  men  bowed,  but  with  countenances  of  the 
utmost  gravity. 

"  How  ridiculously  solemn  a  German  looks  when 
he  bows  to  you !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  laughing. 

Arthur  Burnett  turned  round  to  Caroline,  and  bowed 
a  la  German. 

"  That  is  exactly  the  face  of  that  young  Hoffmann !" 
said  Mrs.  Palmer;  "  I  shall  absolutely  be  afraid  of  your 
Mr.  Burnett!"  added  she. 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  terrible  mimic,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 
"Arthur,  you  must  give  us  the  family  of  the  Jenkinses 
after  dinner — it  is  so  beautifully  absurd !  We  saw  it 
ourselves — they  were  Birmingham  tradespeople — a 
whole  family  at  Florence,  just  arrived,  who  could  speak 
a  word  neither  of  French  nor  Italian!" 


KIND    HEARTS.  81 

Caroline  wondered  with  herself  whether  Karl  Hoff- 
mann would  appear  to  advantage  among  her  English 
friends:  she  feared  not;  he  had 'seen  so  much  less  of 
the  world,  and  was  naturally  so  much  less  assuming. 

Karl's  ramble  with  his  friend  that  day  ended  in  his 
spending  the  evening  with  him  in  the  house  of  the 
Geheimerath,  who,  however,  was  absent  in  Carlsruhe. 
Still  the  good  aunt  was  at  home;  and  there  was 
Pauline,  looking  so  kind  and  so  happy ;  and  all  the 
six  brothers  and  sisters — a  family  of  love — so  good- 
tempered,  and  healthy,  and  amiable.  Yon  Rosenberg 
had  sent  his  violoncello  there  that  afternoon,  and  Pauline 
now  accompanied  him  on  the  piano.  Karl  played  at 
chess  with  the  second  sister,  and  then  at  the  favourite 
game  of  the-bell-and  hammer  with  the  younger  children, 
while  the  good  aunt  sate  on  the  sofa  knitting,  like  all 
German  women  enteringinto  everybody's  pleasure,  and 
looking  the  very  image  of  tiniversal  benevolence. 

After  the  younger  children  were  gone  to  bed,  and 
Von  Rosenberg  and  Pauline  were  practising  together  a 
new  piece  of  music,  the  aunt  invited  Karl  to  a  seat  beside 
heron  the  sofa,  for  a  little  confidential  conversation;  the 
sum  and  substance  of  which  was,  that  although  she 
had  sanctioned  the  young  people's  being  together  that 
evening,  because  she  had  reason  to  believe  that  her 
brother  had  the  highest  esteem  for  Von  Rosenberg,  and 
had,  all  the  winter,  allowed  him  the  most  friendly  in- 
tercourse with  the  family,  and,  she  did  not  doubt,  would 
put  no  impediment  in  the  way  of  his  and  Pauline's 
wishes,  yet  still,  after  this  evening,  until  her  brother 
had  been  made  acquainted  with  what  had  taken  place, 
she  would  never  again  allow  Von  Rosenberg  to  enter 
the  house. 

Karl  said  he  would  go  with  his  friend  the  very  next 
day  to  Carlsruhe ;  the  old  lady  expressed  herself  quite 
satisfied,  and  then  rolled  up  her  knitting;  and,  order- 


82  KrND    HEARTS. 

ing  the  maid  to  bring  in  supper,  busied  herself  in 
preparing  the  table  for  the  meal.  Karl  looked  on 
his  friend's  countenance  that  evening,  beaming  as  it 
was  with  affectionate  happiness,  and  he  thought,  if 
Caroline  Palmer  could  bat  have  seen  it  then,  how 
much  more  would  she  have  been  struck  with  its 
spirituality,  and  high  tone  of  beauty. 

The  Herr  Geheimerath,  or  Privy  Councillor  Damian, 
was  sitting  the  next  afternoon  in  his  schlaf-rock,  or 
morning-coat  and  slippers,  smoking  from  a  very  long 
and  handsome  pipe,  in  the  little  room  which  he  called 
his  study,  in  his  small  lodgings  at  Carlsruhe.  There 
was  a  great  quantity  of  newspapers  lying  on  the  table 
before  him,  a  great  many  bundles  of  written  papers, 
and  books,  in  the  utmost  disorder,  neither  in  modern 
nor  in  handsome  bindings,  occupied  a  set  of  shelves 
on  one  side  of  the  room ;  on  the  opposite  side,  a  great 
many  pipes,  of  every  variety  of  size  and  fashion,  were 
displayed,  in  the  midst  of  which,  however,  hung  a 
large  gilt-framed  and  glazed  engraved  portrait  of  the 
present  Grand  Duke  of  Baden,  evidently  the  most 
esteemed  ornament  of  the  room ;  a  smoking-cap, 
however,  hung  upon  the  hook  which  sustained  the 
picture,  from  which,  perhaps,  no  very  false  inference 
might  be  drawn,  that  with  the  Geheimerath,  loyalty 
and  love  of  tobacco  were  about  equally  strong  passions. 

Altogether  the  room  had  a  very  slovenly  and  dis- 
orderly appearance ;  the  floor,  of  course,  was  un- 
carpeted,  but  it  was,  besides  this,  not  remarkably 
clean ;  the  chairs  had  that  day  been  but  very  partially 
dusted,  and  the  muslin  curtains  of  the  three  large 
windows  might,  with  some  advantage,  have  been 
washed  at  least  a  month  before.  But  the  worthy 
occupant  of  the  room  troubled  himself  about  none  of 
these  things.  He  knew  that  the  excellent  grand 
duke  not  only  had  great  esteem  for  his  judgment  and 


KIND    HEARTS.  83 

abilities,  but  respected  him  as  a  man ;  and  in  his  own 
heart  and  conscience  he  was  at  ease  with  himself;  so 
he  took  no  thought  either  ahout  his  dingy  curtains 
or  his  dirty  chairs ;  and,  so  far  as  concerned  either  his 
pride  or  his  comfort,  his  rooms  might  have  been  the 
best  in  the  palace  itself.  On  this  particular  afternoon, 
having  dined  as  usual  at  one  o'clock,  although  he  had 
taken  up  the  Algemelne  Zeitung,  as  was  his  custom, 
to  read  it,  it  remained  quietly  on  his  knee  unread ; 
and,  seated  in  his  old  cushioned  chair,  he  gave  him- 
self up  to  the  pleasure  of  that  very  long  and  very 
handsome  pipe.  Perhaps  the  tobacco  that  afternoon 
was  particularly  good,  for  he  had  just  opened  a  new 
packet  of  superfine  cnaster;  most  likely  it  was  so, 
for  he  thought  with  himself  he  never  had  smoked  so 
excellent  a  pipe — never  one  which  had  relished  so 
much,  and  he  was  meditating  with  himself  whether 
he  should  not  re-fill  his  pipe  and  smoke  a  second, 
when  a  knock  at  his  door  announced  an  interruption, 
and,  in  answer  to  his  permission  to  enter,  Von  Rosen- 
berg presented  himself.  The  kind-hearted  old  man 
bade  him  cordially  welcome,  internally  rejoicing  over 
himself,  that  now  he  could  smoke  a  second  pipe  in 
company  with  his  visiter.  But  the  visiter  declined, 
although  the  handsomest  pipe  from  the  collection  on 
the  wall  was  offered  him,  and  after  having  been  in- 
vited to  test  the  new-opened  cnaster  by  scent. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  good  Geheimerath,  laughing, 
"  young  men,  now-a-days,  cannot  smoke  out  of  a 
schlaf-rock  ;  and  there  is  some  reason  in  it.  Now,  if  I 
were  at  home  I  could  accommodate  you  in  this  respect ; 
and  even  here,  until  yesterday,  I  had  two,  but  I  un- 
fortunately tore  one  of  them  last  week  on  the  door 
handle ;  it  was  but  an  old  one,  to  be  sure,  but  I  sent  it 
away  to  a  poor  sick  fellow  yesterday,  or  it  might  have 
done  to  wear  on  an  occasion,  or  to  save  a  better  coat." 


84  KIND    HEARTS. 

We  need  not  give  the  precise  words  in  which  Von 
Rosenberg  made  known  to  the  Geheimerath  the 
object  of  his  visit.  The  Herr  Geheimerath  smoked 
his  fresh  pipe,  and  said  so  very  little,  that  poor  Von 
Rosenberg  remained  half  an  hour  afterwards  in  a 
most  wretched,  state  of  uncertainty.  He  had  not 
another  word  to  say;  and  he  thought  he  never  had 
spoken  so  ill,  never  had  looked  so  foolish  in  all  his 
life  before  ;  still  the  Geheimerath  smoked  on,  and  said 
nothing.  Every  minute  seemed  five ;  the  old  gentle- 
man took  up  the  Algemeine  Zeitung,  and  seemed  as 
if  he  were  going  to  read  it  through;  and  then,  with- 
out laying  down  the  paper,  and  with  the  pipe  between 
his  lips,  and  looking  over  his  spectacles,  inquired  if 
Von  Rosenberg  had  come  to  Carlsruhe  alone  ?  He 
replied  that  Karl  Hoffmann  was  with  him. 

"  You  can  both  come  and  eat  some  supper  with 
me,  at  eight  o'clock,"  said  the  Herr  Geheimerath;  "I 
have  some  good  Johannisberg,  and  then  we  can  talk 
over  this  foolish  affair  of  yours  together." 

"  Your  father  and  I  were  each  other's  best  friend 
at  the  University  of  Berlin,"  said  the  kind  old  man 
to  Von  Rosenberg,  as  they  and  Hoffmann  sat 
together  over  the  supper-table,  each  with  a  sparkling 
glass  of  that  noble  Rhine  wine  in  their  hands ;  "  let 
us  drink  to  his  memory  !"  said  he,  winking  his  eye- 
lids close,  and  giving  a  very  peculiar  expression  to 
his  countenance,  so  as  to  prevent  a  tear  from  falling. 
"  To  the  memory  of  Ludwig  Von  Rosenberg,  the 
truest  and  kindest  friend  that  ever  man  had!" 

The  three  glasses  were  filled  to  the  brim,  and,  being 
all  angestossen,  or  clinked  together,  were  emptied  at 
a  draught.  The  old  man  set  his  glass  down  with  a 
violence  that  shivered  it  to  pieces.  "  It  is  right," 
said  he ;  "  it  shall  never  be  polluted  by  being  drank 
from  to  a  less  worthy  man's  memory !"  and  then, 


KIND    HEARTS-  85 

filling  another  glass,  he  drank  it  in  silence  to  his  own 
thoughts. 

"  And  so  your  uncle  is  married  1"  said  he,  turning 
abruptly  to  Von  Rosenberg. 

"  He  has  been  married,"  replied  he,  "  for  many 
years." 

"  There  is  no  hope  of  inheritance  from  him,  then  V 
said  the  other. 

"  None  whatever,"  replied  he. 

"And,"  said  the  Geheimerath — "for  we  may  as 
well  come  to  plain  speaking  at  first — your  father  died 
poor.'' 

Von  Rosenberg  felt  as  if  upon  the  rack,  but  he 
replied,  with  apparent  coolness,  that  his  father  had 
left  but  very  little  property  behind  him.  "  He  died 
suddenly,"  said  he ;  "  a  state  letter,  containing  a  much 
higher  appointment,  arrived  the  very  day  after  his 
death.  He  left  five  children,  of  whom  I  was  the 
eldest."  * 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  interrupted  the  Geheimerath, 
giving  him  his  hand  ;  "  I  know  what  you  have  already 
done  ;  nor  can  I  praise  you  higher  than  in  saying 
that  you  are  a  worthy  son  of  Ludwig  Von  Rosenberg. 
But  you  studied  political  economy  in  Tubingen, 
and  passed  your  examination  most  creditably;  why 
abandon  this,  your  true  vocation?" 

"I  shrunk,"  replied  the  young  man,  with  the  most 
perfect  candour,  "  from  the  prospect  which  that  voca- 
tion presented  me  in  life.  To  vegetate  in  a  small 
city,  where  my  sole  associates  must  be  peasants; 
where  the  only  two  educated,  beside  myself — the 
doctor,  and  the  pastor — had  sunk  down  into  little 
better  than  peasants  themselves.  I  shrunk  from  this, 
perhaps  the  more  especially,  because  I  have  laid  out 
for  myself  a  very  different,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
a  far  nobler  course  in  life." 


86  ^IND    HEARTS. 

"As  a  composer  of  music?"  said  the  Geheimerath, 

"  The  same,"  replied  Von  Rosenberg. 

"  All  very  well,"  said  the  other,  cooly,  "  did  I 
not  know  that  many  an  imaginative  young  man  runs 
away  from  duty,  after  anything  that  looks,  for  the 
time,  more  alluring,  and  thus  brings  ruin  on  himself 
and  friends." 

"  Only  let  me  be  assured,"  said  Von  Rosenbenr, 
with  an  earnestness  that  made  his  countenance  almost 
colourless,  "  that  the  one  dear  wish  of  my  heart  may 
be  accomplished,  and  1  will  then  soon  prove  that  I 
have  been  led  by  no  ignis-fatuus !  Try  for  jears,  if 
you  will,"  continued  he,  seeing  that  the  other 
remained  silent;  "put  me  to  what  test  you  will, 
only  do  not  take  from  me  hope !" 

The  Geheimerath  smiled,  and  then  looked  very 
grave. 

"Were  not  *  *  *  and  *  *  *  poor?"  con- 
tinued Von  Rosenberg,  "  and  where,  throughout  the 
whole  world  now,  are  there  more  honourable  names  ?" 

"And  were  not  many  of  the  most  celebrated  men 
of  the  present  day,"  remarked  Hoffmann,  "  in  every 
department  of  science  and  philosophy,  poor  also? — 
there,  for  instance,  is  the  Herr  Geheimerath's  own 
friend." 

"It  is  a  fine  school,  that  same  much  dreaded 
poverty,"  replied  the  Geheimerath,  "  both  morally 
and  intellectually,  for  the  mind  that  is  strong  enough 
to  overcome  it;  but  I  am  not  objecting  to  your  wani 
of  money  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  he,  most 
kindly,  and  laying  his  hand  on  Von  Rosenberg's  arm, 
but  I  want  to  be  assured  yet  that  you  have  sufficient 
original  power  in  music  to  make  it  prudent  to  abandon 
every  other  prospect  in  life  for  it." 

"  I  have  given  as  yet  but  little  evidence  of  my 
power,"  said  Von  Rosenberg,  overcoming  an  emotion 


KIND    HEARTS.  87 

which  for  the  instant  filled  his  eyes  with  tears,  hut  I 
have  hitherto  struggled  only  with  difficulties — with 
uncertainties.  Some  minds  are  stimulated  hy  diffi- 
culty and  impediment;  the  very  existence  of  opposi- 
tion creates  the  power  to  overcome  it;  these  are  minds 
of  the  highest  order — mine  is  of  a  different  character; 
the  prospect  of  success — the  belief  in  the  ultimate 
accomplishment  of  a  hope — I  care  not  how  remote 
that  accomplishment  lies — has  ever  enabled  me  to 
succeed.  As  I  have  been  candid  in  confessing  my 
■weakness,"  added  he,  "  believe  me  also  when  I  tell 
you  in  what  my  strength  lies.  I  have  courage  for 
every  hardship ;  I  have  perseverance  for  every  diffi- 
culty; but  I  must  have  hope!  Have  confidence  in 
me,  my  friend,  my  father's  friend,"  said  he,  his  noble 
countenance  kindling  with  a  light  as  of  inspiration, 
"  and  neither  you  nor  Pauline  shall  be  disappointed. 
I  know  how  great  is  the  reward  for  which  I  am  asking, 
but  I  know  also,  that  in  the  certain  prospect  of  this 
reward,  I  am  able  to  deserve  it.  Pauline  loves  me," 
added  he,  with  a  proud  earnestness;  "this  surely 
might  have  been  stimulus  enough — why  have  I  sought 
for  more?" 

"  Because,"  said  the  Geheimerath,  "  Ludwig  Von 
Rosenberg's  son  could  not  have  done  less.  Thou  hasfc 
done  right,  and  thou  shalt  have  thy  wish!  Give  me 
thy  hand,  son  of  my  old  friend,  and  may  God 
Almighty  bless  thee!" 

Their  hands  were  fast  locked  together;  the  Geheime- 
rath again  winked  his  eyes,  and  wrinkled  his  face  into 
a  very  comical  expression ;  and  poor  Von  Rosenberg, 
bowing  his  head  to  the  table,  wept  vehemently. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  old  man,  "  this  is  only  fit 
for  women  and  children ;  fill  thy  glass,  Karl  Hoffmann, 
and  fill  Von  Rosenberg's  also."  Von  Rosenberg  could 
not  speak ;  he  rose  from  the  table  and  went  to  the 


88  KIND    HEARTS. 

window,  from  which,  for  the  next  five  minutes,  he 
looked  oat,  or  seemed  to  look  out,  into  the  summer 
moonlight;  but  he  that  while  had  vowed  himself  to 
the  highest  efforts  of  his  art — had  registered  a  vow  in 
heaven,  to  spend  all  the  fervour  of  his  soul  in  becoming 
worthy  of  that  good  old  man's  daughter. 

The  Gcheimerath  Damian  returned  with  the  two 
young  men  to  Heidelberg.  Pauline  knew  instantly, 
when  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  door  that  Sunday 
afternoon,  bringing  her  father  so  unexpectedly  back, 
that  the  lover's  journey  had  been  a  happy  one,  and, 
kissing  him  with  the  warmest  affection  and  gratitude, 
she  bade  him  kindly  welcome. 

It  was  soon  noised  abroad  through  all  the  little 
city,  that  the  fair  Pauline  Damian  was  the  betrothed 
bride  of  Von  Rosenberg.  The  bride  and  bridegroom, 
according  to  custom,  made  calls  on  all  their  acquaint- 
ance, and  received  congratulations. 

"  I  must  return  in  two  days  to  Carlsruhe,"  said 
the  Geheimerath,  after  he  had  been  about  a  week  with 
his  family ;  "  let  us  have  all  our  friends  invited  for 
to-morrow  evening,  that  I  may  drink  with  them  to 
the  happiness  of  the  young  people,  and  then  Von 
Rosenberg  must  prepare  for  his  journey." 

How  busy  the  good  aunt  was  all  that  day,  and  what 
invitations  were  sent  out,  which  everybody  accepted! 

It  would  indeed  have  reconciled  a  misanthrope  to  the 
human  race,  to  have  taken  supper  that  next  night  at 
the  Herr  Geheimerath  Damian' s.  There  was  such  cor- 
diality, such  unceremonious  politeness,  such  universal 
good  understanding  among  them  all;  such  glowing 
friendships  among  the  young,  such  proved  friendships 
among  the  old — not  to  speak  about  the  good  eating 
and  drinking,  nor  the  merry  conversation,  the  flashes 
of  wit,  nor  the  deep  philosophy !  It  was  no  wonder 
that,  when  they  rose  to  depart,  they  were  amazed  to 


KIND  HEARTS.  89 

find  it  past  midnight.  Although  it  was  late  when  the 
company  left  the  Geheimerath's  door,  Von  Rosenberg 
and  his  friend  did  not  separate. 

Von  Rosenberg  opened  all  his  plans  of  life  to  his 
friend.  He  opened  to  him  his  whole  soul,  even  as  he 
had  never  before  done,  for  he  could  now  look  his 
doubts  and  despondencies  in  the  face,  and  think  them 
chimeras;  and  all  his  aspirings  and  dreams  of  distinc- 
tion, which  before  had  seemed  so  baseless  and  futile, 
appeared  now  only  like  the  foreshadowings  of  his 
future  celebrity. 

His  mind  was  of  a  devotional  cast,  and  his 
favourite,  and  hitherto  his  most  successful  m^sic,  had 
been*  of  a  religious  character.  When  a  boy,  he  had 
strolled  over  many  parts  of  Catholic  Germany,  from 
cathedral  to  cathedral,  from  convent  to  convent, 
delighting  himself  with,  and  in  some  degree  studying, 
the  music  of  processions,  of  dirges,  and  masses.  His 
determination  now  was  to  begin  afresh  the  same  study 
in  the  same  way ;  to  place  himself  in  the  very  sanc- 
tuaries of  this  holy  and  peculiar  music,  and  give 
expression  to  the  emotions  of  his  own  soul  to  cathe- 
dral organs,  and  the  chanting  of  lonely  monks.  He 
would  take,  he  said,  his  knapsack  on  his  back,  and 
travel,  even  like  a  common  handwerksbursche,or  wan- 
dering journeyman,  from  city  to  city,  through  Germany, 
France,  and  Italy,  and  create  himself  a  name  in  this 
glorious  yet  unhacknied  path  of  music. 

Karl  strengthened  his  determination,  sympathised 
with  him  in  all  his  glowing  hopes,  and  so  they  parted — 
Karl  to  spend  the  night  partly  in  dreams  of  his  friend, 
and  partly  in  dreams,  not  sleeping  but  waking,  which 
nearly  concerned  himself,  but  in  which  the  reader,  as 
yet,  has  nothing  to  do;  and  Von  Rosenberg  to  com- 
pose— an  earnest  of  his  future  honour — a  magnificent 
piece  of  music,  which  very  soon  thrilled  through  and 


90  SEEKING   AFTER  AMUSEMENT. 

through  the  music-loving  heart  of  Germany,  and 
which  almost  immediately  established  his  name  as 
one  of  her  most  favourite  modern  composers. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SEEKING    AFTER   AMUSEMENT. 

More  than  a  week  passed,  and  the  Palmers  and  the 
Hoffmanns  saw  nothing  of  each  other.  By  degrees 
the  vexatious  memory  of  the  afternoon  at  Neckar- 
steinach  had  faded  away  from  Caroline's  mind;  the 
time  for  apologies  and  explanations  was  gone  by ;  and 
it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had  magnified  mere  trifles 
into  vast  importance.  Besides  this,  she  began  to 
fancy  that  she,  perhaps,  had  given  to  these  new 
German  acquaintance  an  influence  and  a  control,  as 
it  were,  over  her  feelings  and  her  conduct,  which  was 
very  absurd.  She  was  always,  she  said,  so  guided 
by  her  imagination;  she  had  invested  all  quiet,  old- 
fashioned  Germans,  ever  since  she  had  known  that 
good  Mrs.  Von  Vbhning,  with  such  a  panoply  of 
virtues;  and,  really  after  all — turning  again  to  the 
Neckarsteinach  afternoon — Mrs.  Hoffmann  had  been 
uncourteous,  and  even  unjust  to  her.  Then  there  was 
something  in  the  dashing,  off-hand,  uncounting-of- 
cost,  and  decided  manner  and  style  of  the  new  English 
associates,  which  was  captivating.  Her  reason  told 
her,  that  here  again  her  imagination  was  caught,  and 
that  there  was  far  more  danger  in  her  admiring  these 
new  characteristics,  than  by  imagining  even  that  every 
social  virtue  was  German.  She  was  in  an  uncom- 
fortable state  of  indecision  between  two  opinions,  and 
she  began  most  earnestly  to  wish  she  could  bring  not 
national,  but  individual  character,  side  by  side,  as  it 
were  into  close  comparison,  and  discover  the  truth. 


SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT  91 

Thus  she  persuaded  herself  that  it  was  merely  fof 
the  solution  of  a  moral  problem,  that  one  day,  when 
wearied  both  by  Arthur  Burnett's  mimicry  and  flat- 
tery, she  began  sincerely  to  wish  that  Karl  Hoffmann, 
with  his  love  of  music,  and  his  quiet  good  sense, 
would  come  down  to  spend  the  evening  with  them, 
as  he  used  so  often  to  do  before  the  Wilkinsons  came ; 
and,  full  of  this  idea,  she  determined  at  once  to  go 
and  call  upon  his  mother. 

Karl  had  his  hat  in  his  hand  when  she  entered  the 
room,  but  he  immediately  laid  it  down,  and  took  a 
seat.  Both  she  and  Mrs.  Hoffmann  seemed  con- 
strained; the  old  lady  evidently  was  not  cordial,  and 
Caroline  at  once  determined  to  spare  no  pains  to  win 
her  back  into  perfect  friendship.  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  on 
her  side,  who,  for  the  last  ten  days,  had  rejoiced  in 
the  cessation  of  all  intercourse,  was  acting  now  on 
that  mode  of  conduct  she  had  avowed  to  her  son — 
she  would  no  longer  have  any  intimacy  with  these 
English  people.  Caroline's  wish  to  please  made  her 
really  pleasing;  but  the  mother  had  made  up  her 
mind  not  to  be  won,  and,  though  she  smiled  almost 
graciously,  she  was  as  cool  as  possible  in  her  manner. 
Karl  had  never  appeared  so  friendly,  so  agreeable 
before,  for  he,  knowing  his  mother's  true  sentiments, 
perhaps  thought  it  needful  to  show  civility  for  them 
both. 

At  length  Caroline  rose  to  depart,  when  Karl, 
taking  up  a  little  roll  of  music  which  he  had  laid 
down  with  his  hat,  said  that  he  was  intending  to  have 
left  it  at  her  door  when  he  passed ;  that  Von  Rosen- 
berg had  copied  it  out  for  her  at  his  request.  It  was. 
he  said,  his  friend's  last  composition,  and  had  been 
composed  under  the  happiest  circumstances,  and  he 
doubted   not  but  she   would   be   delighted  with  it. 


92  SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT. 

Caroline  smiled  her  grateful  thanks,  and  glanced  at 
the  title — The  Betrothal. 

"  Indeed!"  exclaimed  she,  the  joyful  truth  at  once 
flashing  to  her  mind,  "  then  your  friend  is  happy! 
Allow  me  to  say  how  much,  how  sincerely  I  rejoice!" 
Karl  took  a  small  card  from  a  number  of  others  which 
were  wedged  round  the  looking-glass  frame,  and  pre- 
sented it  to  her.  It  was  small,  with  a  gold  border, 
and  elegantly  engraved,  "  Ludwig  Max  Von  Rosen- 
berg—  Pauline  lsabelle  Marie  Damian,  verlobt  Sep- 
tember 12,  183 — ." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  she,  "the  lovely  girl  who  went 
with  us  to  Neckarsteinach !  I  am  delighted!  Poor 
Mr.  Von  Rosenberg!" 

"  He  does  not  need  any  one's  pity,"  said  Mr. 
Hoffmann. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  pity  him,"  replied  Caroline, 
"  but,  from  my  soul,  I  sympathise  in  his  happiness. 
Congratulations,  of  course,  are  proper  on  such  events. 
I  can  have  no  opportunity  of  offering  mine  either  to 
him  or  her;  let  me,  therefore,  congratulate  you  as 
his  friend;  and,"  added  she,  though  somewhat  in  a 
lower  voice,  "  this  joyful  event  makes  something  you 
said  the  other  day  perfectly  intelligible.  I  am, 
indeed,  delighted;"  and,  glancing  again  at  the  card, 
with  eyes  full  of  kindness  and  pleasure,  she  laid  it 
upon  the  table. 

"Von  Rosenberg,"  said  Karl,  "leaves  Heidelberg 
almost  immediately — perhaps  not  to  return  for  years." 

"That  is  strange!"  replied  Caroline. 

"  He  will  not  marry,"  said  Karl,  "  till  he  has 
acquired  for  himself  reputation,  if  not  fortune.  He 
sets  out  now  on  his  year  or  years  of  learning.  1  also 
shall  do  the  same,"  added  he.  "  We  shall  set  off  like 
two  handwerksburschen,  or  travelling  journeymen, 
with  knapsacks  on  our  backs." 


SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT.  93 

"With  a  respectable  show  of  old  shoes  and  boots 
strapped  on  the  outside,"  said  Caroline,  laughing, 
upon  whose  mind,  however,  this  intimation  of  Karl's 
early  departure  came  like  a  sudden  cloud,  "  and  with 
*  a  little  pair  of  wheels  on  which  to  draw  your  knap- 
sacks when  you  are  weary.  We  shall  have  you 
begging  at  our  carriage  steps — '  A  few  kreutzers — be 
so  good — to  pay  for  our  night's  lodgings!'" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Karl. 

"  But,"  continued  Caroline,  "  your  friend,  with 
his  beautiful  hair,  and  glorious  countenance,  will  get 
far  more  kreutzers  than  you.  One  always  bestows 
one's  money  among  the  handsome  beggars." 

"  But,"  replied  Karl,  "  I  shall  be  the  bold  hand- 
werksbursche,  Von  Rosenberg  will  sit  twirling  his  stick 
on  the  bench  by  the  road-side,  and  I  shall  beg." 

"And  are  they  really  going?"  asked  Caroline, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Hoffmann. 

"Yes,"  replied  she,  "as  soon  as  their  things  are 
ready." 

"  I  always  think,"  said  Caroline,  trying  to  look 
unconcerned,  "  a  handwerksbursche  has  a  pleasant 
life  of  it  while  the  fine  weather  lasts;  but,  methinks 
you  are  setting  off  somewhat  late  in  the  season.  No 
doubt,  however,  you'll  get  hired  to  some  master,  in  a 
cheerful  city,  for  the  winter." 

"  Certainly,"  returned  Karl,  with  the  most  imper- 
turbable gravity. 

The  seven  rooms  which  Mrs.  Palmer  had  hired  for 
her  friends,  were  found  to  be  too  few  for  them,  and 
some  of  the  servants  had  to  be  lodged  out.  Caroline's 
bed-room,  which,  unfortunately  for  her,  adjoined  that 
of  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  was  begged  from  her  for  that 
lady's  French  maid,  and  Caroline  was  removed  into  a 
little  inconvenient  chamber  beyond  their  own  sitting- 
room  ;  but  anything  and  everything  must  be  done  to 
accommodate  and  satisfy  dear  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 


94  SEEKING  AFTER   AMUSEMENT. 

"  I  am  sorry,  dearest  Caroline,"  said  that  lady, 
"  to  inconvenience  you,  but  I  cannot  do  without 
Mademoiselle  Rosalie  close  at  hand." 

"We  are  all  like  one  family,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer; 
"  I  am  sure  Lina's  greatest  pleasure  is  to  oblige  you."  i 

Caroline  said  that  she  found  the  change  rather  a 
convenience,  as  she  thus  could  rise  early  in  a  morn- 
ing to  practise,  without  passing  through  her  mother's 
chamber,  as  she  had  hitherto  done,  and  thus  disturb- 
ing her.  Before  long  another  alteration  was  proposed. 
Mrs.  Palmer's  sitting-room — that  pleasant  room  that 
opened  into  the  balcony,  and  that  Caroline,  she  hardly 
knew  why,  liked  so  very  much — was  found  to  be  nearer 
to  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  kitchen  than  the  one  which  had 
been  first  fixed  upon  for  her  dining-room,  so  Mrs. 
Palmer  was  solicited  to  allow  it  to  become  the  dining- 
room  ;  "  because,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  "you  must 
always  dine  with  us.  It  is  a  miserable  way  sending 
out  for  your  dinner — nothing  hot  nor  as  it  should 
be ;  and  my  cook  is  quite  an  artist.  We  must  all 
dine  together.  My  sitting-room  is  yours,  and  only 
very  little  further  from  your  bed-rooms  ;  Lina's  harp 
shall  be  carried  in ;  and,  now  I  have  hired  the  new 
tables,  and  those  handsome  rugs,  it  looks  quite  Eng- 
lish. I  shall,  however,  have  still  some  brackets  put 
in  the  walls,  and  arrange  on  them,  and  about  the 
room,  some  of  those  vases,  and  things  I  brought  from 
Italy — for  I  hate  these  unfurnished  German  apart- 
ments ;  and,  when  Lina  and  her  harp  are  in  it,  it  will 
look  quite  charming.  And  do  you  know,  Mrs. Palmer," 
said  she,  in  a  very  confidential  tone,  "  Arthur  says 
that  Lina  is  the  most  graceful  English  girl  he  ever 
saw.  She  reminds  us  both  of  Lady  Charlotte  Hay, 
that  I  told  you  everybody  in  Florence  was  in  love 
with — only  I  think,  and  so  he  thinks,  that  Lina  is 
etill  handsomer." 


SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT.  95 

Mrs.  Palmer  after  this  could  say  nothing  against 
giving  up  the  dining-room.  "And  as  to  your  maid," 
continued  the  munificent  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  "  she  must 
always  dine  with  our  servants;  and  you  must  let 
Rosalie  give  her  a  lesson  or  two  in  hair-dressing; 
she  has  a  very  nice  notion,  but  she  will  be  the  better 
for  Rosalie's  teaching." 

In  a  fortnight's  time,  therefore,  a  very  considerable 
change  had  taken  place  in  Mrs.  Palmer's  little 
establishment.  Caroline  passed  most  of  her  time  in 
Mrs.  Wilkinson's  sitting-room;  but  it  was  vain  at- 
tempting to  get  up  early  now  to  practise,  for  Arthur 
Burnett  also  rose  early  in  a  morning  to  train  his  New- 
foundland dog,  which  he  always  did  in  the  sitting- 
room  ;  and,  now  that  their  own  room  was  given  up  for 
dining,  it  was  no  longer  sacred  from  the  entrance  of 
the  Wilkinsons'  servants,  who  soon  found  it  con- 
venient to  set  out  Mr.  Arthur's  breakfast  there ;  or 
it  had  to  be  prepared  for  an  early  luncheon;  or  to  be 
cleaned ;  or  a  missing  spoon  or  fork  had  to  be  searched 
for :  there  was  no  longer  any  privacy  in  it.  Caroline 
thought  to  herself,  that  she  was,  after  all,  very  much 
incommoded,  but  she  took  it  all  patiently;  and  Mrs. 
Palmer,  who  never  left  her  bed-room  till  eleven 
o'clock,  and  therefore  was  no  way  annoyed,  and  who 
only  remarked,  if  her  daughter  chanced  to  complain, 
"  Oh,  love,  I  am  sure  you  are  glad  to  oblige  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  !"  and  who  infinitely  preferred  the  better 
furnished  sitting-room,  and  better  furnished  table  of 
her  friend,  therefore  found  herself  very  happy. 

The  large  case  containing  the  beautiful  casts  and 
marbles  which  had  been  brought  from  Italy,  sorely  to 
their  damage,  had  been  unpacked,  and  such  as  were 
thought  most  appropriate  and  ornamental  were  taken 
out,  "  that  some  marks  of  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son,   "  miadit  be  visible  in  these  inelegant  German 


96  SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT. 

rooms.  Two  antiques  of  great  beauty  were  placed 
upon  the  public  staircase,  in  two  large  niches,  which 
seemed  very  invitingly  to  want  filling;  a  pair  of 
richly-wrought  vases  were  placed  upon  the  brackets  in 
the  sitting-room ;  a  Laocoon  stood  upon  a  little  side- 
table  which  was  hired  for  the  purpose ;  while  a  Hebe 
and  a  Magdalen  of  Canova  stood  upon  black  marble 
pedestals;  and  various  little  Cupids  throwing  balls, 
selecting  arrows,  and  engaged  in  other  such  pastimes, 
with  intaglios  of  great  beauty,  vases  of  terra-cotta, 
and  a  variety  of  curiosities  from  Pompeii,  ornamented 
what-nots,  and  tables,  were  arranged  in  elegant 
disorder,  according  to  the  most  approved  English 
mode. 

"It  is  hardly  worth  while  to  have  been  at  all  this 
trouble  for  so  short  a  stay,  perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson; "but  as  Caroline  wished  to  see  them,  and 
one  had  need  try  to  find  some  amusement  in  this  dull 
place,  it  is  of  no  consequence.  We  can  have  a  man 
from  Mannheim  to  pack  them  all  again."  So  every- 
thing was  spread  abroad  and  examined,  and  such  as 
were  not  wanted  were  given  to  Mademoiselle  Rosalie 
and  Arthur  Burnett's  valet,  to  put  back  into  the  case 


Caroline  one  morning  was  standing  with  a  small 
vase  in  her  hand,  studying,  with  great  attention, 
its  beautiful  design,  whilst  her  mother  and  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  were  reclining  on  the  sofas.  "Well,  I 
must  confess,"  said  the  latter  lady,  with  a  most  ex- 
pressive yawn,  "  that  I  am  greatly  disappointed  in 
this  Heidelberg.  The  castle  is  only  an  unshapely  mass 
of  red  stone,  and  walls  looking  patchy  with  old  white- 
wash." Caroline  turned  round  suddenly,  and  stood 
with  the  vase  still  in  her  hand.  "  Yes,  you  may  look, 
Lina,"  said  she,  "  but  1  have  seen  all  the  splendid 
ruins  in  Italy,  and  all  thosts  in  England;  and,  let  Mrs, 


SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT.  97 

Jameson  say  what  she  will,  the  Coliseum,  even  without 
moonlight,  is  infinitely  before  this  castle;  nay,  even 
in  my  mind,  Bolton  Abbey,  or  Fintun  or  Fountains, 
standing,  as  they  do,  in  their  paradisaical  vales,  and 
bosomed  in  their  magnificent  trees,  are,  any  one  of 
them — not  so  large,  I  grant — but  more  picturesque 
and  beautiful." 

"  I  have  only  seen  Bolton  Abbey,"  said  Caroline, 
setting  down  the  vase;  "  but  ch!  if"  seems  like  treason 
to  compare  it  even  with  this  glorious  castle — this 
mass  of  palaces — any  one  of  which,  nay  even  a  single 
tower  of  which,  would  be  a  splendid  ruin.  Then  look 
at  its  stupendous  walls,  as  if  built  by  Titans — not 
crumbled  away  by  time,  but  rent  and  shattered  by 
violence — every  corner  tower  gone,  and  the  abrupt, 
sharp  angles  of  broken  walls  left  like  rocks  torn 
asunder  by  earthquakes!  Look  at  that  Gesprengte 
Thurm,  does  it  not  remind  one  of  the  wars  of  giants  ? 
Look  again  at  that  magnificent  palace  of  Otto  Heinrich, 
with  its  arabesques  and  graceful  sculptures,  any  one 
figure  of  which  is  worthy  to  be  by  a  pupil  of  Raphael !" 

"  You  are  so  enthusiastic,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson 
laughing;  "  you  look  so  much  at  the  detail  of  a  thing 
— think  so  much  of  its  poetry — I  take  a  thing  in  its 
whole;  and,  I  say  again,  that  tourists  make  a  great 
riot  about  nothing,  when  they  say  so  much  about 
Heidelberg!  What  say  you,  Mrs.  Palmer?" 

"  I  take  a  middle  course,"  said  that  politic  lady 

"  Then,  as  to  the  mountains,"  continued  Mrs. 
Wilkinson;  "  good  Heavens!  to  call  them  mountains! 
— round-backed  hills,  and  nothing  else!  Go  to  Swit- 
zerland for  mountains,  or  to  the  Apennines,  nay, 
even  to  our  own  Wales  or  Cumberland!" 

"  I  have  seen  neither  the  Alps  nor  the  Apennines," 
said  Caroline,  "  but  I  know  perfectly  almost  every 
sheep-track  up  Skiddaw  and  Helvellyn,  Cader  Idris  and 


98  SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT. 

Snowdon — but  I  should  never  think  of  comparing  them 
with  these  hills.  These  dear,  round-backed  green  hills 
— for  we  will  not  call  them  mountains — suit  the  cha- 
racter of  this  scenery,  with  its  vineyards  and  scattered 
villages,  its  deep  old-world  valleys,  where  children  herd 
goats,  and  women  spread  out  the  linen  which  they 
have  spun  in  the  winter  to  bleach,  and  where  a  couple 
of  yoked  cows  slowly  drag  along  the  old-fashioned 
waggon,  and  evei-ything  seems  so  stil.  and  so  simple,  so 
full  of  that  spirit  of  quiet  and  contentment,  which  has 
so  entirely  left  the  home  of  the  English  poor.  Oh, 
I  love  this  old-fashioned  primitive  land  of  Germany!" 

"I  always  told  you  you  were  German-mad!"  said 
her  mother. 

"  Take  care  Arthur  does  not  hear  you  talk  in  this 
strain,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  "  or  you  will  never  hear 
the  last  of  it." 

Caroline  took  up  the  little  vase  again,  and  thought 
that  if  Arthur  Burnett  ridiculed  her,  she  should  very 
much  dislike  him. 

"But  to  return  to  what  I  was  saying,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  "I  do  think  Heidelberg  prodigiously 
stupid: — no  concerts — no  promenades — no  public 
rooms — no  opera!  What,  in  the  world,  is  there'/ 
Are  there  no  people  worth  knowing?" 

"  I  have  some  letters  of  introduction,"  said  Mrs. 
Palmer,  "but  they  are  all  to  professors." 

"  Heaven  defend  me  from  professors  !"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Wilkinson;  "  they  know  nothing  but  their  own 
particular  branch  of  science  or  philosophy,  and  their 
wives  know  nothing  but  household  economy.  I  once 
was  betrayed  into  making  the  acquaintance  of  a  pro- 
fesscr  at  Berlin ;  we  were  invited  there  to  supper, 
And  our  supper  consisted  of  two  sorts  of  sausages,  two 
sorts  of  salad,  and  two  sorts  of  wine,  each  sour  as 
t inegar !    I  must  get  Arthur  to  read  you  the  epigram 


SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT  99 

he  -wrote  on  that  memorable  supper !"  and  again 
Mrs.  Wilkinson  yawned.  "  But  come,  Lina,"  said 
6he,  raising  herself  up  on  the  sofa,  "  I  was  so  sleepy 
last  night,  that  I  confess  I  heard  not  a  single  note  of 
what  you  played.  I  am  tired  even  now,  but  I  want 
to  hear  the  new  piano;  so  sit  down,  and  I  promise 
you  not  to  sleep  again." 

Caroline  sate  down  to  the  grand  piano  which  had 
been  hired  from  Mannheim,  and  began  to  play  the 
piece  which  Karl  Hoffmann  had  given  her. 

"Oh,  but  this  is  really  superb!  This  is  most  splen- 
did music !"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson — who  had  naturally 
a  fine  taste  in  music — rising  from  the  sofa  when  Caro- 
line had  finished;  "whose  is  it,  dear?" 

Caroline's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  There  was 
something  in  that  music  which  touched  her  deeply. 
She  thought  of  the  beautiful  head  and  countenance  of 
its  composer — of  his  early  misfortunes — his  timid, 
uncertain  love — the  influence,  for  happiness  or  misery, 
which  that  love  would  have  upon  his  life — all  which 
Karl  Hoffmann  had  told  her,  and  which  this  music 
spoke  so  plainly;  and  then  the  sudden  change  in  its 
tone  and  spirit — the  lover  was  accepted!  a  colouring 
like  the  morning  was  cast  over  everything — the  earth, 
the  sky,  man  and  woman,  the  present  and  the  future — 
all  was  bright,  all  was  full  of  a  new  glory! — then 
there  was  a  change,  and  all  breathed  of  domestic 
peace,  and  confidence,  and  love ;  the  accepted  bride- 
groom was  received  into  the  bosom  of  a  new  family; 
new  chains  of  affection  were  linked  about  him  ;  there 
was  a  holy  calm  over  everything,  as  if  a  father's  bless- 
ing, and  a  mother's  tears,  and  loving  angels  in  heaven, 
had  hallowed  it!  Then  followed  a  burst  ljke  that  of 
joyful  hearts  speaking  aloud — as  of  the  laughter  of 
young  brothers  and  sisters,  the  clinking  of  glasses, 
the  drinking  to   the  happiness   ot   the  betrothed :   a 


100  SEEKING  AFTER  AMUSEMENT. 

low  symphony  closed  it — the  friends  were  gone;  the 
bride  and  the  bridegroom  had  parted,  and  blessed 
dreams,  like  the  fluttering  of  angels'  wings,  gathered 
round  the  pillow  of  each.  It  was  more  intelligible 
than  words  to  Caroline,  and,  burying  her  face,  in  her 
hands,  she- wept. 

"It  is  glorious  music!"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  tak- 
ing it  from  the  instrument;  "but  this  is  manuscript!" 

Caroline  wiped  her  eyes.  "  I  am  very  foolish," 
she  said,  "but  this  music  affects  me  strangely.  It 
was  composed  only  a  few  days  ago  by  one  of  Mr.  Hoff- 
mann's friends,  on  his  own  betrothal,  I  believe." 

"He  is  quite  a  genius!"  said  Mrs.  "Wilkinson;  "we 
must  know  him;  he  can,  perhaps,  help  to  amuse  us — 
who  is  he?" 

"  A  Mr.  Von  Rosenberg,"  replied  Caroline  ;  "  you 
remember  him,  mamma,  with  the  long,  beautiful  hair ; 
he  went  with  us  in  the  boat  to  Neckarsteinach.  He 
has  since  then  been  betrothed  to  Miss  Damian — that 
pretty  girl  in  the  pink  bonnet.  He  calls  this  won- 
derful music,  very  properly,  The  Betrothal.  '  Its  deep 
sentiment,  its  truthful  domestic  character,  its  holy, 
affectionate  spirit,  make  it  perfectly  glorious,"  said  she. 

"  I  should  think  you  might  ask  Mr.  Hoffmann  to 
bring  him  some  evening,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer;  "and, 
now  I  think  of  it — how  long  it  is  since  that  young  man 
was  here! — he  sings  admirably." 

"  Come,  come !"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  looking  quite 
animated,  "  with  a  composer  like  tnis — what's  his 
name? — Yon  Rosentein — your  singing  Mr.  Hoffmann, 
yourself,  Lina,  and  your  singing-mistress,  I  declare  we 
might  get  up  a  little  concert.  Unfortunately  Arthur 
cares  nothing  for  music — but  I  really  must  manage 
it ;  that  dining-room  of  yours,  Lina,  we  might  fit  up 
so  sweetly,  with  an  awning  over  the  balcony.  We 
must  do  it!" 


SEEKING   AFTER   AMUSEMENT.  101 

"Will  you  call  with  me  on  Mrs.  Hoffmann?"  said 
Caroline,  to  Mrs.  Wilkinson ;  "  you  know  here  the 
strangers  must  make  the  first  advance." 

"But  why  need  to  call  in  Mrs.  Hoffmann  at  all? 
we  only  want  the  son,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

"I  don't  exactly  know,"  replied  she,  "hut  he 
eeems  to  have  such  respect  and  reverence  for  his 
mother — I  think  it  is  rather  characteristic  of  a  German 
— that,  as  we  have  had  the  misfortune  to  offend  her, 
we  must,  in  the  first  place,  get  her.  into  good  humour, 
and  then  the  son  will  he  at  our  service."  She  then 
related  what  had  happened  at  Neckarsteinach.  "  You, 
see,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  I  was  so  taken  hy  surprise 
— I  had  expected  you  so  long  and  so  earnestly,  that 
at  the  moment  I  forgot  all  ahout  those  people,  and  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  either  made  apology  or  excuse  for 
leaving  them." 

"  We  can  soon  get  over  that  little  difficulty)"  said 
Mrs.  Wilkinson;  "I  never  yet  met  with  foreigners 
who  were  not  flattered  by  the  civilities  of  the  rich 
English;  and  besides  that,  I  am  never  without  a  little 
'  soft  sawder,'  as  Slam  Slick  says." 

"  Sam  Slick  has  clipped  many  of  my  angels' 
wings,"  said  Caroline  laughing.  "  I  used  so  happily 
to  believe  all  the  fine  things  people  said  either  to  me 
or  to  mamma,  till  I  read  Sam  Slick." 

"  She  uses  too  much  soft  sawder  herself,  not  to 
know  what  is  soft  sawder  in  other  people's  mouths," 
said  Mrs.  Wilkinson  to  Caroline's  mother.  "  Is  not 
that  true?" 

"  I  never  flatter,"  said  Caroline,  eagerly. 

"  Then  I  am  sure,  Lina,"  returned  her  mother, 
"  you  have  no  business  to  court  this  Mrs.  Hoffmann, 
for  she  is  both  cold,  and  proud,  and  homely,  and  old- 
fashioned." 

"  She  is  a  dear  old  ladv  for  all  that,"  said  Caroline. 


102  AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

"  Well,  let  you  and  I  go  and  see  what  we  can 
make  of  her,  Lina,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  taking  her 
card-case  from  the  table,  and  drawing  Caroline's 
arm  within  her's. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

They  were  summoned  to  the  dinner-tahle  the  moment 
they  came  down  from  their  call  on  Mrs.  Hoffmann. 
Arthur  Burnett  also  then  came  in ;  he  was  just  re- 
turned from  Mannheim,  and  was  in  the  highest  spirits; 
he  had  met  with  the  Ponsonbys  there;  Bell  was  now 
handsomer  than  ever,  and  Tom  seemed  a  nice  sort 
of  fellow.  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  countenance  expressed 
such  unqualified  pleasure,  that  Mrs.  Palmer  was  sure 
they  must  be  worth  knowing. 

"  What  branch  of  the  Ponsonbys  are  they  ?"  asked 
she. 

"  The  Warwickshire  branch,"  replied  her  friend. 
V  Colonel  Ponsonby  is  the  brother  of  Sir  John  ;  we 
knew  them  in  Paris  three  years  ago,  very  dashing 
people."  And  then  she  went  on  to  tell  of  their 
soirees  and  morning  concerts,  and  blessed  herself  in 
the  discovery  she  had  just  made  of  a  musical  genius, 
for  she  could  thus  in  some  degree  equal  her  friend, 
who  always  had  some  protege  or  other.  "  It  was 
lucky,  however,"  she  said,  "  that  they  did  not  live  in 
the  same  place  ;  Colonel  Ponsonby  was  a  desperate 
gambler ;  a  run  of  ill  luck  had  driven  him  from 
Paris,  and,  in  so  small  a  town  as  Heidelberg,  they 
might  have  found  their  acquaintance  inconvenient, 
as  it  was  now,  nothing  could  be  more  charming;  she 
would  therefore  drive  over  the  next  morning,  and 
make  her  call."     She  then  told  Burnett  of  the  musical 


AMUSEMENT  FOUiSD UNEASY  DOUBTS.  103 

genius  she  had  just  discovered  ;  that  she  was  going 
to  give  a  little  concert ;  and,  now  that  the  Ponsonbys 
were  come,  she  would  invite  them,  and  some  of  their 
Mannheim  friends  also. 

"  Then  you  found  the  old  lady  up  stairs  not  im- 
placable ?"  said  Mrs.  Palmer. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  said 
that,  like  all  Germans  she  had  ever  known,  she  was 
extremely  cautious — was  very  much  afraid  every 
English  or  French  person  meant  to  take  her  in. 
Caroline  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  been  perfectly  and 
irresistibly  charming;  that  she  herself  could  have  been 
deceived  into  the  notion  of  her  having  the  utmost 
reverence  and  esteem  for  her. 

11  I  shall  send  her,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  "  a  pair 
of  alabaster  vases — we  have  far  more  than  I  know 
what  to  do  with.  I  knew,  when  I  bought  them,  I 
should  give  them  away  before  I  got  them  to  England; 
and  really  the  old  ladv  admired  the  figures  on  the 
stairs  very  properly." 

"  She  has  very  good  taste,  and  a  vast  deal  of  infor- 
mation— nay,  actually  solid  knowledge,"  said  Caroline, 
"  that  only  makes  itself  known  by  accident." 

"  You  can  look  her  out  a  pretty  pair  of  vases, 
Lina,"  said  her  munificent  friend. 

"  I  shall  never  forget,"  said  Caroline  laughing,  and 
turning  to  Burnett,  "  how  amiably  delightful  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  was!  I  thought  of  all  I  had  told  Mrs. 
Hoffmann  about  her,  and  I  was  sure  she  would  think 
that  I  had  not  spoken  without  reason." 

"  She  is  an  adept  in  flattery  and  persuasion,"  said 
he,  looking  archly  at  his  adopted  aunt;  "and  I  shall 
never  forget  a  certain  Mrs.  Abigail  Finch,  who  lived 
somewhere  in  Holborn,  to  whom  we  used  to  pay  visits : 
—but,  by  the  bye,"  said  he,  suddenly  interrupting  him- 
self, and  feeling  in  his  side-pocket,  "  here  is  a  letter 


104  AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

for  you  from  Paris."  Mrs.  Wilkinson  took  the 
letter,  and,  while  she  was  deeply  engrossed  by  the 
contents,  he  went  on:  "Well,  this  old  lady  was  pro- 
digiously rich,  and  had  all  her  money  out  on  mort- 
gages ;  and  there  was  a  certain  Quito,  or  Amazonian, 
or  Brazilian  Joint-Stock  Mining  Company,  that  was 
rather  short  in  its  finances,  and  thought,  naturally 
enough,  that  this  old  lady's  money  could  be  employed 
to  far  better  advantage  by  them,  pay  her  tenfold 
interest,  and  help  them  out  of  their  difficulties. 
Not  a  week  passed  but  the  most  tempting  circulars 
went  to  her,  telling  her  of  gold,  and 'silver,  and  dia- 
mond mines,  and  cent,  per  cent,  returns  on  all  money 
invested,  but  the  old  lady  was  proof  against  them  all; 
nothing  would  move  her,  though  a  live  member  of 
parliament  went  to  her.  At  last  they  thought  of 
sending  Mrs.  Wilkinson  to  her,  and  I  had  the  honour 
of  attending  her.  Many  and  many  were  the  visits  we 
paid  her,  and  many  the  bottles  of  ginger-wine  and 
the  plates  of  gingerbread  we  emptied ;  for  with  these 
dainties  the  good  old  soul  always  regaled  us." 

"  And  did  she  give  up  her  mortgages  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Palmer,  with  the  greatest  apparent  interest. 

"  To  be  sure  she  did !  How  could  she  do  other- 
wise?" replied  he.  "  She  died,  however,  poor  old 
lady,  just  before  the  mines  exploded,  and  proved  to 
be  only  moonshine,  and  left  in  her  will  half  the 
expected  profits  to  an  orphan  house,  or  something  of 
the  kind ;  the  other  half  to  a  world  of  poor  relations  ; 
and  the  principal,  munificent  old  soul,  to  no  other 
than  my  eloquent  aunt,  together  with  her  clothes, 
and  fifteen  excellent  feather  beds ;  which,  of  course, 
were  all  that  ever  she  got,  for  the  money  was  gone 
over  and  over  again!" 

Arthur  Burnett  laughed  heartily ;  Caroline  smiled, 
but  she  thought,  though  she  did  not  say  it,  that  such 


AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS.  105 

a  story,  if  true,  was  not  to  the  Wilkinsons'  credit; 
whilst  her  mother  looked  very  grave. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at?"  asked  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son, folding  together  the  letter.  "  I  was  telling," 
said  Arthur  Burnett,  "  of  Mrs.  Abigail  Finch's 
legacy !" 

"  Poor  old  creature !"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  with 
the  utmost  indifference,  and  then  added,  "  Mr.  Wil- 
kinson is  in  Paris  still;  he  has,  however,  heen  to 
Petersburg.  He  writes  in  excellent  spirits,  and  hopes 
to  he  here  in  a  few  weeks,  w  l.«JI1  he  proposes  that  we 
should  go  to  Vienna  for  the  winter,  unless  we  prefet 
staying  here.  He  says  he  has  received  a  diamond  ring 
from  some  Russian  prince — I  can't  make  out  his 
name — which  he  intends  for  Caroline." 

"  How  kind!  howr  good  of  him!"  exclaimed  Caro- 
line, thinking  there  never  were  such  generous  people 
as  the  Wilkinsons. 

Mrs.  Palmer  said  that  dear  Mr.  Wilkinson  was  too 
generous ;  but,  complaining  of  violent  headache,  said 
she  would  go  to  her  own  room  and  lie  down. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  Caroline  went  to 
choose  a  pair  of  vases;  she  was  divided  in  her  opinion 
between  two,  the  one  from  an  antique,  the  other 
modern ;  they  were  standing  on  the  drawing-room 
table  before  her  when  Karl  Hoffmann  and  Von  Rosen- 
berg came  in  to  accept  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  invitation. 
Caroline  solicited  their  judgment ;  Von  Rosenberg 
preferred  the  modern — it  was,  to  his  taste,  more  light 
and  elegant;  Hoffmann  found  more  beauty  in  the 
purely  classical  outline  and  chaste  ornament  of  the 
antique;  Caroline  said  she  should  be  guided  by  his 
judgment.  Von  Rosenberg  looked  as  if  he  had 
received  the  highest  possible  compliment,  in  the  pre- 
ference given  to  his  friend,  and  Hoffmann  bowed. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson   was    delighted   with    the   young 


106  AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

musician ;  to  her  mind  he  was  the  heau-ideal  of  a 
genius:  the  fine  contour  of  his  countenance,  the 
picturesque  effect  of  his  rich  flowing  hair,  the  enthu- 
siasm and  ardour  with  which  he  spoke  of  his  art* 
all  filled  her  with  rapture;  but  when  he  sat  down 
to  the  instrument  and  played  his  own  music,  her 
admiration  was  without  bounds ;  she  clasped  her 
hands,  she  wept,  she  nodded  time  to  the  livelier 
measures,  and  foretold  for  him  the  most  brilliant 
career.  "We  must  have  you  in  England,"  said  she; 
''genius  reaps  such  a  golden  harrest  there!"  She 
herself,  she  said,  would  return  to  England  for  one 
season,  to  patronise  him;  she  had  the  power  of  mak- 
ing anything  a  fashion ;  she  would  take  a  princely 
house  in  one  of  the  best  parts  of  London,  and  intro- 
duce him  to  everybody.  Her  husband,  she  said, 
had  unheard-of  influence  among  the  richest  people 
in  the  land;  and,  if  he  would  only  promise  to  come 
to  London,  she  would  ensure  for  him  not  only  a 
splendid  musical  reputation,  but  a  noble  fortune 
also ! 

Von  Rosenberg,  dazzled  by  all  the  lavish  promises 
of  the  enthusiastic  lady,  felt  indeed  as  if  the  day  of 
his  prosperity  was  dawning  apace,  and,  full  of  grati- 
tude, entered  into  the  scheme  of  the  projected  little 
concert  with  a  zeal  equal  to  her  own.  How  happily 
and  gaily  the  evening  wore  away  !  Von  Rosenberg 
played  unwearyingly ;  Hoffmann  and  Caroline  sang 
together  as  they  had  done  in  the  days  of  their  earlier 
acquaintance;  Mrs.  Wilkinson  applauded,  and  ar- 
ranged in  her  own  mind  the  plan  of  her  concert,  and 
interrupted  them  perpetually,  to  communicate  any 
new  idea  as  it  suggested  itself,  or  to  call  upon  them 
to  decide  between  two  rival  ones ;  whilst  Arthur 
Burnett  played  with  his  dog,  leaned  out  of  the  win- 
dow to  quiz  those  who  were  without,  and  then  threw 


AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY   DOUBTS.  107 

himself  on  the  sofa,  to  quiz  those  who  were  within  ;  and 
thought  that,  spite  of  the  enthusiasm  of  everybody, 
the  evening  was — to  English  a  most  expressive  Ger- 
man word — very  long-whilish. 

All  this  time  there  were  two  discontented  persons 
belonging  to  this  associate  household — Mrs.  Hoff- 
mann, and  Mrs.  Palmer.  Poor  Mrs.  Palmer  had 
thrown  herself  upon  her  bed  in  serious  agitation  and 
anxiety  of  mind,  occasioned  by  the  little  anecdote 
Arthur  Burnett  had  related  of  poor  Mrs.  Abigail 
Finch ;  but  to  her  daughter  she  would  not  for  the 
world  have  said  one  word  of  the  true  cause.  "  I 
think  it  is  the  heat  of  the  weather,  dear,  that  has 
overdone  me,"  said  she  to  Caroline,  who,  in  the  course 
of  the  evening,  went  to  inquire  after  her;  "  you  can 
send  me  a  cup  of  strong  tea;  but  one  thing,  Lina,  I 
must  impress  upon  you — do  not  be  quite  absorbed 
by  this  young  Hoffmann ;  he  is  a  very  excellent 
young  man,  I  do  not  doubt,  but  how  is  it  that  you 
always  laugh  so  much  more  with  Arthur  Burnett 
than  with  him?  You  seem  like  a  giddy  thoughtless 
girl  with  the  one,  but  like  the  earnest  woman  with 
the  other;  how  is  it?" 

A  slight  blush  passed  over  Caroline's  face  as  she 
answered,  "  The  characters  of  the  two  are  so  different; 
I  find  nothing  to  laugh  at  with  Mr.  Hoffmann — he 
makes  me  think ;  with  him  I  always  seem  conscious 
of  mind,  and,  like  Undine,  I  suppose  this  very  con- 
sciousness makes  me  grave  and  thoughtful." 

"  Caroline,"  said  her  mother,  raising  herself  up  in 
her  bed,  "  you  are  unaware,  perhaps,  what  your  com- 
parison implied;  Undine  loved  when  she  became 
thoughtful ;  that  is  what  I  fear,  that  is  what  I  warn 
you  against;  whilst  you  laugh,  and  are  giddy  as  a 
child,  I  know  your  heart  is  unentangled  :  now,  of  these 
two — though  nothing  could  be  more  improper  than 


108  AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

a  young  lady  bestowing  her  affections  unsolicited — 
how  much  is  Arthur  Burnett  preferable  to  the  other! 
look  at  the  style  of  the  two;  look  at  the  fortunes  of 
the  two — at  their  prospects  in  life  — " 

"  But,"  said  Caroline,  interrupting  her  mother,  "  I 
should  hate  marrying  merely  for  worldly  prospects; 
why  should  I  ?  " 

"  "Why  should  you  !"  exclaimed  her  mother,  grow- 
ing warm  and  angry,  "  because  it  is  your  duty  to 
advance  your  own  fortunes  in  life  as  much  as  possible. 
For  what  have  I  lived  abroad,  out  of  my  own  land, 
where  all  my  affections  are  centered,  but  to  give 
you  advantages  which  our  small  income  would  not 
give  you  at  home?  You  are  handsome,  Lina,"  added 
she,  intending  to  touch  her  by  an  appeal  to  her 
vanity,  "  and  have  the  style  of  a  thorough-bred 
gentlewoman.  I  have  spared  nothing  in  your  educa- 
tion, as  you  well  know ;  and  it  surely  is  but  a  small 
request  that  I  make,  that  you  will  not  go  and  throw 
away  your  affections  on  a  pennyless  foreigner!" 

"  My  dear  mother !"  exclaimed  Caroline,  "  have 
no  anxiety  about  me.  I  am  beginning  to  be  worldly- 
minded,  and,  since  our  friends  have  been  with  us, 
have  acquired  a  very  sufficient  love  of  money,  and  of 
the  pleasure  of  spending  it  too!" 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  pursuing 
the  subject  of  her  warning  ;  "  and  remember  it  is 
often  as  bad  to  seem  guilty,  as  to  be  guilty.  How 
absurd  must  you  appear  to  the  Wilkinsons — to  Mr. 
Burnett — if  they  suspected  you  of  any  penchant  for 
Mr.  Hoffmann!  how  they  would  laugh  at  you!  I 
am  sorry,  for  my  part,  that  Mrs.  Wilkinson  has  got 
this  musical  mania  on  her,  and  1  am  sorry  that  I  said 
anything  about  Mr.  Hoffmann's  singing — it  -will  bring 
him  here  so  much." 

"  Oh!"  said  Caroline  smiling,  "pray,  mamma,  let 


AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY   DOUBTS.  109 

not  that  trouble  you ;  he  and  his  friend  leave  Heidel- 
berg immediately,  and  then  we  must  depend  upon 
Mr.  Burnett  for  amusement;  and  dull  enough,  I  doubt, 
we  shall  find  it." 

"  Nonsense!  child,"  replied  her  mother,  "  for  you 
seem  to  find  him  always  amusing;  but  go  now,  my 
head  is  worse  for  all  this  talking;  send  me  a  cup  of 
strong  tea,  and  remember  what  I  have  said." 

■When  Gretchen  took  her  mistress'  tea  she  received 
orders  to  request  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  unobserved  by  her 
daughter,  to  come  to  her  for  five  minutes.  Mrs.* 
Wilkinson,  in  her  enthusiasm  about  the  proposed  con- 
cert, forgot  the  request  till  near  eleven  o'clock,  when 
the  young  men  were  gone,  and  Caroline  offered  her 
hand  to  say  adieu,  adding  that  she  must  visit  her 
mother  before  she  went  to  rest.  "  I  ought  myself  to 
have  gone  to  her,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson ;  "  stay  here, 
Lina,  till  I  return  ;  I  have  a  little  device  for  the  con- 
cert room,  which  I  want  to  consult  you  about;  now" 
amuse  her,  Arthur,  while  I  am  gone." 

Burnett,  therefore,  who  was  by  no  means  unaware 
of  her  enthusiasm  for  her  German  friends,  and  who, 
moreover,  had  been  piqued  by  the  preference  she  had 
given  to  Hoffmann  over  himself,  began  most  remorse- 
lessly to  caricature  both  him  and  his  friend.  He  was 
irresistibly  comic,  and  Caroline  laughed  extremely. 
Arthur  thought  her  always  lovely;  he  thought  she 
looked  lovelier  than  usual  to-night;  he  was  quite 
divided  in  his  opinion  as  to  whether  she  or  Bell 
Ponsonby  were  the  handsomer.  Bell  Ponsonby 
looked  splendid  on  horseback;  if  Caroline  looked 
as  well  on  horseback,  she  was  the  handsomer, 
for  Bell  did  not  at  all  times  look  equally  well  in  a 
room.  He  asked  Caroline  if  she  rode?  She  said 
she  did ;  she  had  ridden  a  great  deal  in  England,  and 
liked  it  much.     Burnett  said  he  was  delighted;  he 

10 


110  AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

had  bought  a  horse  for  himself;  his  aunt  wished  for 
one  also,  as  she  was  fond  of  riding;  he  cared  nothing 
for  riding  out  with  her,  and  therefore  he  had  said  he 
could  not  find  a  horse  fit  for  her;  there  were  plenty 
of  horses,  however;  and,  now  that  Caroline  rode,  he 
would  go  the  next  day  and  find  one,  and  thus  they 
would  have  charming  rides  together;  Bell  Ponsonby 
rode,  and  her  brother  had  a  most  valuable  horse;  they 
would  make  altogether  a  fine  cavalcade,  and  astonish 
everybody ;  he  should  not  have  cared  much  for  riding 
'with  the  Ponsonbys,  but  with  her,  he  assured  her,  it 
was  quite  a  different  thing. 

Caroline  thought  she  had  never  seen  Burnett  more 
agreeable  than  he  was  this  evening;  if  he  were  not 
positively  handsome,  he  was  one  of  the  most  gentle- 
manly persons  she  had  ever  seen.  There  was  some- 
thing perfectly  fascinating,  to  her  fancy,  in  this  un- 
sparing indulgence  of  pleasure,  unregardful'  of  cost; 
ft  was  as  if  the  lamp  of  Aladdin  were  in  possession 
of  the  Wilkinson  family.  She  thought  how  glorious 
it  must  be,  through  the  whole  of  one's  life,  never  to 
know  the  want  of  money ;  she  asked  Burnett  if  he 
ever  had  deprived  himself  of  a  pleasure  because  of  its 
cost?  and,  while  he  is  relating  some  of  his  most  me- 
morable extravagances,  let  us  inquire  what  passed 
between  Mrs.  Palmer  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson.  The 
former  lady  was  just  about  dispatching  Gretchen  with 
a  second  request  to  her  friend,  when  she  made  her 
appearance,  with  overwhelming  apologies  on  her  lips. 
"  Really,  Lina  had  been  playing  and  singing  so 
gloriously,  that  there  was  no  leaving  the  room ;  she 
must  confess  having  forgotten,  but  she  hoped  dear 
Mrs.  Palmer  was  not  ill."- 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer;  "  for,  though  it  is 
late,  I  must  have  some  conversation  with  you  on  a 
subject  of  ^e  most  painful  importance  to  me." 


AMUSEMENT  FOUND — UNEASY  DOUBTS.  Ill 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  what  do  you  mean?"  asked 
the  other. 

M  Perhaps  you  did  not  hear  the  anecdote  which  Mr. 
Burnett  told  at  dinner,  of  a  certain  Mrs.  Abigail 
Finch  ?"  said  Mrs.  Palmer. 

"  About  her  legacy  ?  Oh  yes,"  replied  the  other, 
smiling. 

"  About  her  being  over-persuaded — I  think  those 
were  his  own  words,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  to  invest 
all  her  property  in  some  wild  mining  scheme  or 
other." 

•'  I  believe  she  did  so,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson  ;  <,;  but 
what  of  that?  it  is  years  ago ;  hundreds  of  people  lost 
by  the  same  bubble  bursting;  surely,"  added  she, 
"  you  were  not  one  of  the  poor  old  lady's  disappointed 
heirs ! " 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer  gravely,  "  I 
cannot  laugh.  Burnett  said  you  were  the  means  of 
this  poor  lady's  calling  in  all  her  money,  and  so  em- 
ploying it.  Now  do  not  interrupt  me,"  said  she, 
seeing  Mrs.  Wilkinson  eager  to  speak. 

M  I  must!"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  with  angry  de- 
cision ;  "  Arthur  is  a  foolish  prating  fellow !  what 
does  he  know  about  this  affair  ?" 

"  Nay,  do  not  be  angry,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Palmer, 
who  was  one  of  those  who  always  got  the  worst  of  an 
argument. 

"  I  will  tell  you  how  it  was,"  continued  her  friend, 
in  the  same  overbearing  tone  of  voice.  "  Mrs.  Finch 
was  one  of  those  weak-minded  women  who  are  unfit 
to  manage  their  own  affairs;  she  was  very  rich,  but 
was  always  playing  with  her  money,  as  a  child  with 
his  toys ;  now  she  would  have  it  in  mortgage,  now  in 
the  funds,  now  in  a  banker's  hands — she  never  was 
satisfied;  and  at  last  she  heard  of  this  mining  scheme, 
and  took  it  into  her  head  to  invest  there." 


112  AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

"  But  pardon  me,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer;  "  the  mining 
scheme  was  Mr.  Wilkinson's." 

"  No  more  his,"  returned  the  other,  "  than  a  hun- 
dred other  people's.  It  was,  like  many  another  such 
scheme,  unlucky ;  but  what  in  the  world  has  all  this 
to  do  either  with  you  or  me?" 

"  Do  not  be  impatient,"  again  pleaded  poor  Mrs. 
Palmer;  "and,  if  I  am  unjustly  suspicious,  pardon 
me;  for  oh!"  said  she,  putting  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes,  "  I  am  anxious  beyond  what  you  can  conceive! 
Heaven  knows,  but  1  have  perhaps  done  as  madly  as 
poor  Mrs.  Finch!" 

"  You !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  she,  laying  her  hand  on  her 
friend's  arm ;  "  and  oh,  if  you  can  give  me  assurance 
and  consolation,  do!  Three  years  ago,  when  Mr. 
Wilkinson  was  in  London,  he  was  greatly  interested 
about  an  Australian  Land  Company — of  course  you 
heard  of  it." 

"  Certainly,  I  heard  a  deal  about  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilkinson. 

"  Immense  estates  of  bankrupt  settlers,"  continued 
she,  "were  bought  up.  It  was  a  splendid  scheme; 
the  maps  were  laid  before  me,  and  even  the  company's 
books ;  I  always  was  very  exact  in  the  management 
of  my  own  income ;  I  kept  a  debtor  and  creditor 
account  with  myself,  and  put  down  every  farthing,  so 
that  I  understood  something  of  those  things.  I  never 
saw  clearer  accounts  than  those  that  were  shown  me ; 
fifty  per  cent,  was  the  calculated  return  on  all  money 
so  invested,  after  the  first  three  years.  It  was  a 
tempting  thing.  My  daughter  was  growing  up; 
expenses  in  England,  as  you  know,  are  fearful;  my 
property  was  funded,  and  my  income,  though  certain, 
was  but  small ;  the  temptation  was  great,  and,  God  help 
me  if  I  have  been  deceived — I  sold  out  of  the  funds." 


AMUSEMENT  FOUND UNEASY  DOUBTS.  113 

"  Surely  you  did  not!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilkinson, 
surprised  out  of  her  own  discretion. 

"  At  least,"  continued  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  Mr.  Wilkin- 
son, on  whose  judgment  I  -placed  the  greatest  reli- 
ance, managed  all  for  me.  I  wished  Lin  a  to  know 
nothing  about  it,  nor  does  she.  I  have  thought 
always  what  a  pleasure  it  would  be  to  surprise  hei 
some  day  with  the  news  of  our  good  fortune.  Mr. 
Wilkinson  for  the  first  two  years  sent  me  quarterly 
statements  of  accounts,  all  clear  and  satisfactory  ;  foi 
the  last  year  I  have  had  none.  I  was  insured,  for  three 
years  certain,  for  four  per  cent,  on  my  money,  which 
has  been  paid  duly.  I  am  in  my  last  half-year.  Judge 
then  of  my  anxiety !  I  have  the  utmost  confidence, 
however,  in  Mr.  Wilkinson.  I  do  not  think  he  would 
willingly  have  let  me  be  deceived;  but  this  history  of 
poor  Mrs.  Finch  has  affected  me  greatly.  God  help 
me,  if  this  Australian  Land  Company  should  prove  a 
bubble !" 

"Do  not  be  anxious,  dear  Mrs.  Palmer,"  said  her 
friend,  in  the  most  soothing  tone;  "  do  not  have  any 
uneasiness ;  Wilkinson  is  a  man  who  never  engages 
himself  in  a  doubtful  concern ;  he  is  lucky  beyond 
example;  nor  would  he  counsel  you,  for  whom  he 
has  had  always  so  high  an  esteem,  to  invest  even  a 
sixpence  to  disadvantage.  As  to  poor  Mrs.  Finch, 
if  you  knew  what  a  fool  she  was  about  money,  you 
would  only  wonder  that  at  her  death  she  had  any  to 
lose;  but,  pray  cheer  up;  Wilkinson  will  soon  be 
here,  and  then  we  will  have  it  all  talked  over." 

"  Hint  not  one  word  of  this  to  Lina,"  said  Mrs. 
Palmer;  "  1  am  wretched  when  I  think  that  perhaps 
(  have  destroyed  all  her  prospects  in  life!  I  assure 
you,  there  are  times  when  I  think  I  shall  lose  my 
reason!" 


114  AMUSEMENT  FOUND- — UNEASY  DOUBTS. 

"  But  Lina's  fortune  is  not  involved  also,  I  hope?" 
asked  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

"  Why  do  you  say  hope?'"  asked  Mrs.  Palmer,  with 
eager  suspicion.  Her  friend  replied,  that  she  had  no 
reason  to  hqpe  or  fear  on  the  subject ;  it  was  merely 
a  passing  question ;  she  supposed  Lina's  fortune  was 
independent  of  her  mother." 

"  Fortune!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer,  betrayed  into 
a  confession  she  had  not  contemplated,  '  Lina's  for- 
tune amounts  merely  to  one  thousand  pounds,  at  four 
per  cent,  interest — what  is  that?  it  merely  buys  her 
clothes." 

It  was  very  little,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  said.  "  Seven 
per  cent,  interest  on  six  thousand  pounds,"  continued 
Mrs.  Palmer,  "  I  have,  as  was  stipulated,  received  from 
Mr.  Wilkinson ;  we  manage  to  live  very  well  on  that 
abroad ;  and  I  have  spared  no  cost  nor  pains  to  com- 
plete poor  Lina's  education.  I  hoped  to  take  her 
back  to  England  better  educated,  more  highly  accom- 
plished than  most  girls'  and  able  to  do  justice  to  the. 
splendid  fortune  I  had  insured  for  her." 

"  Whatever  Wilkinson  recommended,"  remarked 
his  wife,  "  you  may  consider  safe.  I  assure  you 
people  bring  their  money  to  him,  in  preference  to 
putting  it  in  the  Bank  of  England." 

"  I  will  try  to  be  satisfied,"  replied  Mrs.  Palmer — 
"  I  will  try  to  feel  secure — but  oh !  I  assure  you  I 
have  never  known  a  day's  nor  a  night's  perfect  rest, 
since  I  signed  my  name  to  those  papers.  People 
don't  know  what  they  do  when  they  persuade  others 
to  embark  their  all  on  an  uncertainty!  Now,  tell  me 
candidly,  as  if  you  were  on  your  solemn  oath,  know 
you  anything  of  this  Australian  Company?" 

"  I  cannot  say,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  "  that  1 
never  heard  of  it ;  but  as  to  what  it  was  or  is,  or  whai 


DOUBTS  IN  ANOTHER  QUARTER.        115 

it  has  turned  out,  I  know  nothing.  Upon  my  word, 
I  know  nothing.  I  never  trouble  myself  about  such 
things;  but  when  Wilkinson  comes,  of  course  you 
must  know  all  about  it.  I  'myself  think  he  ought  not 
to  have  counselled  your  risking  all  your  property ;  but, 
as  he  has  done  so,  you  may  depend  upon  it  the  scheme 
is  sure;. and  I  think,  besides,  had  any  scheme  in 
which  you  had  an  interest  been  unlucky,  he  would 
have  mentioned  it.  As  it  is  done  with  his  advice,  be 
easy;  all  will  be  well — I  am  sure  it  will;  nay,"  said 
she  laughing,  "  who  knows  but  he  brings  you  tidings 
of  this  golden  egg  having  hatched!" 

"I  pray  Heaven  that  he  may  do  so!"  said  Mrs. 
Palmer. 

"And  now,  good  night!  Make  yourself  easy," 
said  Mrs.  "Wilkinson,  giving  her  hand;  "good  night, 
I  must  go  now  and  look  after  our  young  ptople,  whom 
I  left  to  amuse  one  another;  I  declare  I  have  been 
sitting  here  a  whole  hour!"  So_  saying,  in  a  voice  as 
cheerful  as  if  there  was  no  anxiety  about  money, 
or  anything  else  in  this  world,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  went 
out,  to  reprove  her  thoughtless,  adopted  nephew  for 
having  talked  so  unadvisedly,  under  any  circum- 
stances, but,  as  it  happened,  so  unfortunately,  on  the 
subject  of  Mrs.  Abigail  Finch. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DOUBTS  IN  ANOTHER  QUARTER. 

Mrs.  Hoffmann  had  been  busy  for  the  last  several 
days,  not  only  in  overseeing,  but  in  assisting  also  in 
the  getting  up,  of  a  large  German  wash.  All  this 
day  she  had  been  busied  with  two  women,  accom- 
plished laundresses,  in  ironing  her  son's  shirts,  which, 
under  her  own  eye,  and  with 


116        DOUBTS  IN  ANOTHER  QUARTER 

the  utmost  exactness,  was  done  this  time  with  more 
care  than  common,  because  this  was  the  linen  which 
had  to  be  packed  for  his  journey,  for  his,  at  least 
two  year's  absence  in  the  universities  of  Vienna, 
Berlin,  and  Paris. 

Karl  having  seen  his  friend  to  his  own  door,  en- 
tered the  room  in  which  his  mother  was  sittung,  not  a 
little  surprised  to  see  her  up  so  late,  for  it  was  an  hour 
after  her  usual  bed-time.  "  Sit  down  a  few  minutes 
with  me,  Karl,"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  vacant  seat 
beside  her  on  the  sofa.  He  knew  his  mother  was 
low-spirited  at  parting  with  him  for  the  fir«t  time, 
and  for  so  long,  and  his  manners  were  particularly 
kind.  "  See  there,"  said  she,  pointing  to  a  pair  of 
vases  standing  on  a  commode,  "  a  present  I  have  had 
this  afternoon." 

Karl  ros^and  looked  at  them  near;  they  ■were  the 
same  vases  on  which  Caroline  had  asked  his  judg- 
ment. 

"  They  are  a  present  to  me  from  Mrs.  Wilkinson," 
said  she ;  "  I  see  no  reason  why  she  should  make  pre- 
sents to  me." 

Karl  said  that  they  were  beautiful;  that  they  were 
copies  of  a  celebrated  antique.  "  I  say  nothing 
against  their  beauty,"  replied  his  mother.  "  I  only 
wish  they  had  not  been  sent  to  me ;  I  would  much 
rather  retm-n  them." 

"  Impossible!"  said  he,  "quite  impossible;  it  would 
not  only  be  ungracious,  but  ungrateful  also." 

"  I  shall  not  send  them  back,  Karl,"  said  his 
mother;  "but  as  to  gratitude,  I  feel  none.  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  is,  it  strikes  me,  not  generous,  but  lavish; 
there  is  little  merit  in  her  giving,  because  I  believe 
her  to  be  one  who  feeds  her  vanity  by  buying  many 
tu;n;_  i,  ami  then  feeds  it  again  by  giving  them  away: 
such  a  character  would  be  unnatural   in  Germany, 


DOUBTS  IN  ANOTHER  QUARTER.        117 

but  it  is  the  growth  of  English  extravagance.  Such 
would  give  away  whatever  had  lost  its  novelty,  not 
from  generosity,  but  weariness  of  possession ;  the 
receiver  merely  relieves  them  of  a  burden ;  there 
therefore  can  be  little  call  for  gratitude.  Mrs.  Palmer 
and  her  daughter  speaks  of  her  as  so  wonderfully 
generous,  because  she  gives  them  so  much.  She 
•  would  give  as  much  to  her  waiting-maid." 

Karl  knew  she  was  right,  though  he  did  not  choose 
to  confess  it;  so  he  laughed  at  her  prejudice  against 
the  English,  and  brought  one  of  the  vases  to  the 
lamp,  the  better  to  observe  it.  "  I  am  quite  charmed 
with  them,"  said  he,  "  and  will  be  grateful  to  Mrs 
"Wilkinson,  if  you  will  not.  You  remember  what 
Goethe  says:  '  One  should,  at  least  every  day,  hear  a 
little  song,  read  a  good  poem,  look  upon  some  excel- 
lent picture,  and,  if  it  be  possible,  speak  a  few  sensible 
words!'"  said  he,  placing  the  vases  on  the  slab  of  a 
low  book-case,  on  which  they  looked  extremely  well ; 
"  there  you  may  have  daily  before  your  eyes  a  design 
of  great  classic  beauty,  which  Goethe  himself  would 
admire.  As  for  sensible  words,"  said  he,  smiling, 
"  you  always  speak  them,  except  when  you  speak  of 
our  English  friends." 

"  I  have  now  your  things  almost  ready,"  said  his 
mother,  thinking  it  of  no  use  to  talk  further  about  the 
vases ;  "  when  you  have  made  your  calls  of  adieu,  and 
such  little  preparations  as  you  need  for  yourself,  and 
your  passports  come,  I  think  all  will  be  quite  ready." 

"  Are  you  impatient  for  me  to  go?"  asked  he. 

"How  could  I?"  she  replied.  "There  is  very 
little  pleasure  to  me  in  the  thought  of  being  alone ; 
but  why  have  I  busied  myself  so  much,  and  even 
this  day  sat  up  so  late,  but  that  I  believed  you  your- 
self impatient  to  set  out?  When  does  Max  Von 
uosenber":  "o?" 


118        DOUBTS  IN  ANOTHER  QUARTER. 

"Not  for  two  weeks,"  replied  Karl;  "he  has 
promised  to  arrange  a  little  concert  for  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son: of  course  I  cannot  go  without  him." 

"  I  wish  I  was  quite  sure,"  said  his  mother  gravely, 
"  that  there  is  not  a  secret  influence,  though  perhaps 
you  may  deny  it  to  yourself,  which  makes  you  reluc- 
tant to  leave  these  English  acquaintance  of  yours." 

Karl  blushed — yes,  blushed — for  a  young  German- 
may  blush  without  being  ridiculous.  "Mcther," 
said  he,  with  a  kindness  of  tone  which  at  once  went 
to  her  heart,  "  take  it  not  unkind  that  I  ask  you 
neither  to- suspect  my  motives,  nor  to  pry  into  the 
causes  of  my  conduct;  and,  as  you  have  found  me 
hitherto  capable  of  judging  for  myself,  confide  in  my 
judgment  at  least  a  little  longer." 

"  I  would  not  have  spoken  on  this  subject  now," 
said  she,  "  did  I  not  believe  you  incapable  of  judging 
for  yourself.  Fly,  my  dear  son,  whilst  you  yet  are, 
in  some  degree,  'a  free  agent!  An  English  wife, 
Karl,"  said  she,  growing  at  once,  as  it  were,  des- 
perate, "  and  a  wife  brought  up  in  all  the  follies  and 
extravagancies  of  the  worst  class  of  English  society, 
is  not  fit  for  a  German  who  has  his  own  path  in  life 
to  make.  Dear  Heaven!  Karl,  1  am  angry  when  I 
think  of  it!  Such  a  wife  as  this  would  make  a  home 
miserable,  were  you  otherwise  the  most  successful 
man  in  Germany!" 

"  Your  prejudices  are  so  strong,"  said  Karl,  taking 
up  his  night-candle,  "it  is  vain  reasoning  with  you. 
I  pray  you  to  leave  me  to  make  my  own  acquaintance, 
and  to  guide  my  own  actions,  as  I  have  hitherto  done !  " 

"  When  1  see  you  madly  running  on  destruction," 
said  she,  "  I  will  warn  you.  You  have  been  more 
headstrong  about  these  English  people  than  about 
anything  else !  My  eyes  are  open,  and  I  can  see. 
You  are  in  danger,  and  I  will  warn  you ;   and  I  will 


DOUBTS  IN  ANOTHER  QUARTER.  119 

endeavour  to  interpose  between  you  and  certain 
misery.  Upon  that  you  may  depend,"  said  she,  in 
a  tone  of  almost  angry  decision. 

Karl  set  down  his  candle  again.  "  Do  not  let 
there  be  strife  betwixt  us,"  said  he,  in  a  lone  which 
was  calm,  but  betrayed  emotion;  "I  pray  you,  by 
all  the  affection  you  have  for  me,  not  to  urge  me 
further  on  this  subject.  I  am  not  a  boy,  to  be  turned 
about  merely  by  another's  opinion  ;  this,  perhaps,  is 
the  only  subject  of  importance  on  which  we  think 
differently.  1,  on  my  part,  promise  not  to  be  misled 
by  mere  fancy }  you,  on  yours,  must  leave  me  to  my 
own  judgment — must  put  a  little  confidence  in  me. 
If  I  have  not  hitherto  gone  very  far  wrong,  grant  me 
yet  this  same  liberty  a  little  longer ;  ask  me  not  any 
questions,  suspect  me  not,  but  leave  me  with  an 
unembarrassed  mind,  to  be  influenced  alone  by  my 
calmest  reason." 

"Alas!"  said  she,  "my  fears  were  just — you  love 
this  English  girl;  but  I  will  neither  reproach  nor 
remonstrate — I  will  only  pray  that  Heaven  may  pre- 
serve you  from  the  evil  consequences  that  I  foresee, 
and  have  foreseen  all  along!" 

Karl  shook  his  mother's  hand,  and  smiled  on  her 
affectionately.  "But  I  have  one  more  request  to 
make,  which  you  must  grant:"  she  withdrew  her 
hand  hastily,  and  asked  what  further  he  wanted. 
"  That  you  behave  not  only  with  civility,  but  kind- 
ness, not  only  to  Miss  Palmer  and  her  mother,  but  to 
Mrs.  Wilkinson  also,"  said  he. 

"No,  Karl,"  said  she  hastily,  and  angrily;  "you 
ask  what  I  neither  can  nor  will  grant.  Here  I 
will  stop;  with  these  people  I  will  have  nothing  to 
do;  my  intimacy  with  them  is  ended.  I  said  so  a 
week  ago ;  I  am  doubly  decided,  now  that  1  know  what 
your  sentiments  are  towards  them.     You  must  run 


120  NEW   ACQUAINTANCE. 

into  wKd.t  extravagant  lengths  you  please,  but  me 
you  shall  not  drag  along  with  you;  I  have  done  with 
your  English  friends — I  will  neither  show  them  civi- 
lity not  kindness!" 

Karl  again  took  up  his  candle,  and,  without  offer- 
in  his  mother  his  hand,  bade  her  good  night.  There 
was  nothing  very  extraordinary  in  it — he  had  done  so 
before ;  but  at  that  moment  she  thought  it  unkind. 
She  looked  at  the  carefully  prepared  pile  of  linen 
which  stood  before  her;  she  thought  how  she  had 
tired  herself  with  working  for  him  all  day,  and  now 
that  she  had  pleaded  with  him,  for  what  she  believed 
his  life's  happiness,  he  was  angry!  She  lighted  her 
own  bed-candle,  extinguished  the  lamp,  and  went  to 
her  own  chamber,  quite  out  of  spirits. 

Next  day,  Hoffmann  and  his  friends  made  one  of 
their  long  favourite  strolls  into  the  hills;  on  his 
return  home,  he  found  his  mother  busied  in  trimming 
a  cap,  which  she  said  she  was  preparing  for  a  party 
on  the  morrow,  at  the  same  time  glancing  to  an  open 
note  which  lay  on  the  table. 

It  was  a  note  from  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  inviting  her  to 
drink  tea  with  them  the  next  day  :  her  son  and  Von 
Rosenberg  had  had  their  invitations  the  day  before. 
Karl  asked  no  questions  as  to  his  mother's  so  sud- 
denly altering  her  intentions ;  he  merely  smiled,  and 
said  he  was  glad  she  was  going. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

NEW    ACQUAINTANCE. 

The  next  evening,  about  seven  o'clock,  Mrs.  Hoff- 
mann, dressed  in  her  best,  and  with  her  knitting  in 
her  black  silk  bag,  made 'her  appearance  in  Mrs. 
Wilkinson's  room.    Mrs.  Palmer  was,  as  usual,  reclin- 


NEW   ACQUAINTANCE.  121 

ing  on  a  sofa,  and  apologized  for  remaining  in  that 
position,  on  the  plea  of  being  unwell.  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son, her  daughter,  and  Mr.  Burnett,  she  said,  had 
driven  over  to  Mannheim,  and  she  wondered  that  they 
had  not  already  returned,  as  they  had  promised  to  he 
back  for  dinner  at  five;  no  doubt  they  had  stayed 
and  dined  there,  but  that  certainly  they  would  be 
back  directly,  as  she  knew  Mrs.  Wilkinson  wished  to 
consult  Mr.  Von  Rosenberg  about  her  concert.  It 
was  very  strange,  she  said,  that  they  were  so  long, 
but  as  they  had  some  old  and  very  charming  acquaint- 
ance at  Mannheim,  no  doubt  they  had  been  kept  to 
dinner.  Mr.  Burnett,  she  said,  was  gone  about  a 
horse  which  he  wished  to  purchase  for  his  aunt;  but, 
for  her  part,  she  did  not  believe,  when  it  came,  she 
would  ride;  however,  it  was  all  very  well,  as  Caro- 
line could  make  use  of  it,  and  could  thus  practise 
riding  again,  of  which  she  was  very  fond.  Mrs. 
Hoffmann  said,  that  in  a  university  town  ladies  did 
not  ride  on  horseback  much. 

"Certainly  my  daughter  would'  not,"  said  Mrs. 
Palmer,  "unless  she  were  properly  attended.  In 
England,"  continued  she,  "she  was  always  noticed 
for  her  good  riding — even  in  London,  where  may  be 
found  the  finest  horse-women  in  the  world."  In  the 
midst  of  such  conversation  as  this,  Karl  and  Von 
Rosenberg  entered.  "It  was  very  awkward,  very 
vexatious,  Mrs.  Palmer  siid,  that  they  did  not  come; 
they  talked  of  the  weather;  they  talked  of  the  pro- 
jected concert;  and  then  Mrs.  Palmer  rose  from  the 
sofa,  and  walked  to  the  window.  "  Oh,  here  they 
are,"  she  exclaimed,  "and  with  them  a  young  lady- 
Miss  Ponsonby,  I  suppose ;  a  very  fine  English  girl, 
I  hear!" 

Mrs.  Wilkinson,  in  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  entered, 
declaring   that  it  was  impossible  they  could  be  for- 

11 


122  KEW  ACQUAINTANCE. 

given;  that  the  Ponsonbys  had  promised  Bell  should 
accompany  them,  and  remain  a  few  days  with  them, 
if  they  would  dine  with  them.  Dinner  was  to  have 
been  ready  at  three  o'clock — instead  of  that,  it  was  four; 
then  the  Colonel  loved  the  table  so  much,  and  time 
really  went  so  fast,  that  she  was  shocked  to  find  it 
six  before  they  rose  from  the  table.  She  had  not, 
she  protested,  a  word  to  say  in  her  defence;  she  only 
trusted  to  the  mercy  of  her  friends,  &c.  &c.  Caroline 
and  Miss  Ponsonby  then  entered,  and  presently  after- 
wards, Arthur  Burnett.  Bell  Ponsonby  was,  as  every- 
body said,  very  handsome — a  proud,  although  a 
blonde  beauty.  They  all  three  seemed  in  the  most 
triumphant  spirits,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  loud 
laughing  and  loud  talking  among  the  English  part  of 
the  little  company,  whilst  the  three  Germans  sate 
silent  and  constrained.  The  subject  of  all  this  ani- 
mated talk  was  the  pleasure  to  be  experienced  in 
their  projected  horseback  excursions,  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son having  deputed  Caroline,  as  was  expected,  to  ride 
her  new  horse.  Bell  and  her  brother  were  to  accom- 
pany them,  and  the  whole  country,  even  into  the 
Odenwald,  was  to  be  scoured ;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
Germans  who  were  present,  Bell  and  Arthur  Burnett 
ridiculed  the  ladies  of  their  nation,  for  their  inexpe- 
rience on  horseback. 

After  tea,  Von  Rosenberg  sate  down  to  the  piano, 
and  Caroline  to  the  harp;  but,  through  the  whole  of 
this  unfortunate  evening,  had  she  studiously  resolved  to 
grieve  her  German  friends,  she  could  not  have  been 
more  successful.  The  truth  was,  she  had  been  jeered 
that  very  clay  by  the  Wilkinsons,  for  her  German 
tastes  and  feelings.  Bell  Ponsonby  prided  herself  on 
her  Paris  education  and  experience  of  life!  and  Caro- 
line, afraid  of  being  ridiculed,  was  ashamed  to  be 
natural;   besides  which,  the  warning  her  mother  had 


NEW    ACQUAINTANCE.  123 

given  her  not  to  be  so  grave  in  her  conversations  with 
Karl,  left  her  not  at  case  with  him ;  towards  him, 
therefore,  she  assumed  new  manners — the  manners 
least  pleasing  of  all  in  Germany — those  of  a  lively 
coquette.  She  was  glad,  however,  when  the  evening 
was  over;  so  was  Karl,  who  now,  seeing  that  poor 
Caroline  had  appeared  to  so  little  advantage,  was 
sorry  he  had  pressed  his  mother  to  renew  her  inti- 
macy; whilst  she,  too  generous  to  taunt  him,  thought 
quietly  with  herself,  surely  a  few  such  evenings  as 
these  would  make  him  willing  to  leave  his  English 
friends  without  regret. 

The  next  day  the  new  horse  was  brought  home — 
a  beautiful  creature,  and  Caroline  grew  quite  impa- 
tient to  ride  it.  In  the  course  of  the  next  week,  all 
the  good  villagers  of  the  neighbourhood  were  familiar 
with  the  English  cavalcade.  Rich  and  poor  all 
talked  of  the  dashing  English,  who  frightened  both 
men  and  women  with  their  spirited  horsemanship.  It 
became  quite  a  fashion  for  groups  of  students  to 
assemble  to  see  them  go  by;  whilst  everywhere  it 
was  a  question  which  was  the  lovelier,  the  dark  or 
the  fair  beauty.  During  all  this  time,  the  projected 
concert  was  a  subject  of  almost  hourly  talk  in  the 
"Wilkinsons'  drawing-room ;  a  little  programme  was 
drawn  up  by  Von  Rosenberg,  which  promised  to  be 
delightful;  Caroline,  Hoffmann,  and  Madame  Von 
Holzhauser,  all  had  favourite  pieces  allotted  them; 
and  almost  every  evening  was  devoted  either  to  par- 
ticular or  general  rehearsal. 

The  greatest  possible  intimacy  subsisted  now 
between  the  Wilkinsons  and  the  Ponsonbys ;  there 
was  such  perpetual  going  to  and  fro  between  Heidel- 
berg and  Mannheim;  such  scheming  of  parties  of 
pleasure ;  such  balls  and  concerts,  projected  both  for 
immediate  enjoyment,  and  for  the  winter,  if,  as  Mrs 


124  NEW   ACQUAINTANCE. 

Ponsonby  hoped — for  she  had  an  immediate  eye  to 
Arthur  Burnett,  with  his  seven  thousand  a  year — she 
could  only  prevail  on  them  to  stay  in  Heidelberg  for 
the  winter ;  or  why  not  in  Mannheim  ?  The  Wilkinson 
party  had  been  introduced  to  the  grand  duchess,  and 
been  graciously  received,  and  were  now,  together 
with  the  Ponsonbys,  looking  forward  to  a  great 
autumn  ball  which  she  was  about  to  give,  and  to 
which  they  had  already  received  invitations. 

Bell  Ponsonby  had  been  now  ten  days  at  the  "Wil- 
kinsons' ;  Caroline  and  she  were  always  together,  and 
people  said  they  were  the  best  friends  in  the  world. 
Caroline  was  sitting  one  evening  in  her  own  room, 
looking  over  a  quantity  of  beautiful  purchases  which 
she  had  just  made,  in  expectation  of  the  grand 
duchess's  ball.  She  looked  anxious,  if  not  unhappy: 
her  thoughts  -were  by  no  means  connected,  nor  was 
the  state  of  her  feelings  very  intelligible  even  to  her- 
self; and,  had  she  soliloquised,  it  would,  perhaps,  have 
been  somewhat  in  this  style. — "  It  is  strange  what  an 
alteration  there  is  in  the  objects  of  my  pursuit  now, 
and  a  few  weeks  ago!  how  much  less  I  read — how 
much  less  I  think — how  much  more  regardful  I  have 
become  of  what  people  say  and  think  of  me !  I  am 
disturbed  by  the  Hoffmanns'  coolness,  yet,  what  do  I 
to  deserve  their  esteem?  I  shrink  from  the  Wilkin- 
sons' and  Bell  Ponsonby's  ridicule  and  railing,  and 
do  and  say  as  they  do,  and  seem  to  be  guided  by  the 
very  principles  I  despise!  How  ridiculous  it  would 
be  to  talk  to  them  as  I  have  talked  to  Madame  Hoff- 
mann! the  worldly,  domineering  spirit  of  these  peo- 
ple, would  sneer  down  even  the  strong  principles  of 
Madame  Von  Vohning!  It  is  very  strange  what  an 
unhappy,  unsatisfactory  influence  Bell  Ponsonby  has 
upon  me ;  she  is  clever,  witty,  sarcastic,  and  beauti- 
ful; 1  dislike  her,  and  I  fear  her:  I  dislike  her  spirit 


NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  125 

and  manners;  and  yet,  because  I  fear  her  ridicule,  I 
appear  to  have  adopted  the  same  manners,  and  to  be 
influenced  by  the  same  spirit.  Both  she  and  her 
mother  are  bent  upon  making  a  conquest  of  Arthur 
Burnett.  Arthur  Burnett,  never  till  now,  was  of  any 
consequence  to  me;  but  I  cannot  let  her  triumph 
over  me:  I  care  nothing  for  winning  his  affection,  but 
I  do  care  for  mortifying  her!  I  must,  I  will  win 
him!  I  will  make  her  confess,  that  a  simple  country 
girl,  such  as  she  thinks  me,  who  have  never  been 
either  in  Paris  or  Vienna,  can  win  him  easily,  whom 
she  wishes  to  win,  and  cannot!  I  despise  myself  for 
all  this;  but  it  will  do  her  good  to  humble  her!"  So 
reasoned  poor  Caroline,  turning  over  the  white  lace 
and  gold  tissue  gloves,  and  embroidered  pocket  hand- 
kerchiefs, without  bestowing  a  single  thought  upon 
any  of  them. 

"I  did  not  think,"  said  her  mother  to  her,  the  next 
day,  "that  Mrs.  Wilkinson  meant  to  make  such  a 
great  affair  of  this,  which  she  has  always  called  her 
'little  concert.'  I  see  she  has  been  at  work  in  the 
dining-room,  and  she  has  ordered  two  thousand  green- 
house plants — I  can't  conceive  where  she'll  put  them  ; 
she  has  invited,  she  tells  me,  no  less  than  thirty  peo- 
ple from  Mannheim,  beside  the  Ponsonbys;  and  she 
has  engaged from  the  opera  there,  to  sing." 

"  I  don't  think  Mr.  Von  Rosenberg  will  like  it," 
said  Caroline ;  "  he  knows  nothing  of  it  yet — it  was 
quite  a  sudden  thought  of  Mrs.  "Wilkinson's  yester- 
day; but  it  makes  him  such  a  second-rate  person; 
and  as  the  Herr  Geheimerath's  family  will  be  there,  it 
will  be  quite  a  pity.  'She  has  altogether  re-arranged 
her  plan ;  Mr.  Hoffmann  and  I  are  dispensed  with 
entirely.  * 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  very  glad 
indeed ;  it  made  you  quite  too  uublic ;    and,  as  Mr. 


126  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE. 

Burnett  took  no  part  in  it,  nor  cares  much  for  musics 
I  never  liked  it.  We  must,  however,  dress  much 
more  than  I  intended,  and  that  I  am  sorry  for,  espe- 
cially as  we  shall  want  something  quite  superb  for  the 
grand  duchess's  ball.  I  am  sorry  indeed  about  this 
little  concert  requiring  so  much,"  said  she  ;  for  she  had 
her  own  secret  reasons  for  wishing  to  be  economical. 
Caroline,  of  course,  knowing  nothing  of  these 
reasons,  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  Gretchen  to  bring 
in  the  large  packet  of  purchases  which  she  had  made 
the  day  before. 

*"  I  doubt  you  will  think  me  extravagant,"  said 
she,  "  but  really  when  one  sees  people  like  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  buying  so  liberally,  one  is  ashamed  not  to 
do  the  same.  I  spent  four  times  the  sum  I  intended, 
and,  of  course,  as  I  could  not  pay  for  all,  I  paid  for 
nothing ;  so  now  I  have  the  agreeable  knowledge  of 
owing  twenty  pounds  in  Mannheim." 

"  Well,  I  think  after  Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  persuaded 
you  to  buy  these  things,  she  ought  to  have  laid  down 
the  money  for  them ;  it  is  such  a  thing  to  let  a  young 
person  run  into  debt!  It's  what  I  never  did,  Lina, 
when  I  was  your  age,  and  I  beg  you  will  never  do  it 
again;  you  ought  rather  to  have  gone  without!" 

"What  could  I  do?"  said  Caroline;  "there  was 
Bell  buying  the  most  exquisite  lace,  and  embroidered 
handkerchiefs,  without  any  remorse  whatever.  I 
know  that  both  she  and  her  mother  think  it  shabby 
that  I  dress  so  plainly,  and  I  cannot  bear  that  they — 
that  she,  of  all  people — should  make  remarks  on  my 
wardrobe !" 

Mrs.  Palmer  fell  into  a  reverie  ;  she  often  did  so ; 
and  her  daughter  busied  herself  by  putting  smoothly 
together  the  things,  which,  beautiful  as  tftey  were, 
gave  her  but  little  pleasure. 

"  I   am  greatly   pleased,"   at   length   began  Mrs. 


KUtr  ACQUAINTANCE.  127 

Palmer,  speaking  on  a  subject  which  occupied  her 
thoughts  a  great  deal,  "  by  what  I  have  seen  of 
Arthur  Burnett;  he  is  a  fine  young  man,  very  much 
a  gentleman,  and  rather  singularly  amiable,  I  think. 
I  would  be  the  last  person  in  the  world,  Lina,"  said 
she,  "  to  suggest  that  you  should  be  at  any  pains  to 
win  a  lover;  a  girl  like  you,  go  where  you- may,  will 
never  lack  admirers;  but  one  like  Mr.  Burnett — 
handsome,  rich,  and  amiable — is  not  to  be  met  with 
every  day  ;  you  must  be  at  some  little  pains  to  secure 
him." 

"  I  am  sure,"  said  Caroline  laughing,  "  both  Bell 
and  I  make  ourselves  very  agreeable  to  him.  Mr. 
Burnett  ought  to  be  most  grateful  to  us." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  what  is  the  secret 
spring  of  all  the  Ponsonbys'  politeness  and  attention ; 
one  thing  you  may  depend  upon,  Lina — all  the  family 
would  be  glad  to  have  you  and  me  out  of  the  way — 
that  makes  them  wish  to  get  the  Wilkinsons  to  them- 
selves at  Mannheim;  but  you  must  not  let  that  girl 
outwit  you.  Sit  down  beside  me,  dear,"  said  she, 
with  almost  tearful  eyes,  "  and  let  me  talk  to  you 
seriously.  I  have  reasons  which  I  cannot  explain  to 
you  now,  why  I  wish  to  see  you  prosperously  married, 
at  least  with  a  certain  prospect  of  being  so.  My 
health  is  bad,  my  spirits  are  weak,  and  the  one  wish 
and  prayer  of  my  heart  is  to  see  you  happily  settled. 
I  have  known  the  Wilkinsons  for  years ;  I  esteem  them 
highly,  as  you  know;  and  I  am  sure  that  a  young 
man  brought  up  under  their  eye  must  be  excellent; 
and  then  think,  dear,  only  of  his  fortune,  of  the 
inheritance  he  will  have  at  the  Wilkinsons'  death — it 
is  quite  a  princely  thing!" 

Whilst  her  mother  was  thus  admonishing,  many 
thoughts  were  passing  through  Caroline's  mind,  which 
summed   themselves  up  in  this  way.     Hundreds  of 


128  EVENING  ADVENTURES. 

mothers,  besides  hers,  would  naturally  wish  to  win 
such  a  husband  as  Arthur  Burnett  for  their  daughters; 
Mrs.  Ponsonby  did;  but  she  had  already  made  up  her 
mind  to  be  Bell  Ponsonby's  successful  rival.  Sup- 
pose, now,  she  were  to  marry  him,  what  would  be  hei 
prospects  -in  life?  She  saw  at  once  splendid  city 
residences,  all  the  world  smiling  upon  her,  servants 
at  command,  carriages,  horses,  handsome  clothes  in 
abundance,  no  anxiety  about  money,  a  Kfe  of  splen- 
dour and  pleasure;  suppose,  on  the  contrary,  she 
married  Karl  Hoffmann,  what  then?  She  preferred 
his  mind  and  his  manners  infinitely  to  Burnett's;  she 
thought  him  much  handsomer  also;  but  with  him 
she  could  only  expect  the  ridicule  of  all  these  her 
English  friends,  with  no  chance  of  forgiveness  from 
her  mother  ;  and  she  herself  must  sink  down  into  the 
manager  of  a  frugal  German  family,  dressing  plainly, 
and  counting  the  cost  of  everything.  The  prospect 
was  not  inviting,  and  she  could  not  help  thinking  that 
her  mother  counselled  not  without  reason. 


CHAPTER  X. 

EVENING    ADVENTURES. 

When  Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  extended  her  "  little 
concert"  into  as  "  brilliant  an  affair  as  possible,"  and, 

on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  had  engaged ,  of 

the  Mannheim  opera,  and  a  whole  orchestra  of  musi- 
cians and  singers  besides,  she  felt  herself  in  a  dilemma 
regarding  Von  Rosenberg  and  his  friend.  She  feared 
they  would  be*  offended;  but,  as  she  had  told  every- 
body of  "  her  protege" — a  wonderful  musical  genius 
whom  she  had  discovered,  and  whom  she  would  bring 
forward  not  only  here,  but  in  London — she  still  had 
a  wish  to  include  him  in   her   new   arrangements, 


EVENING  ADVENTURES.  129 

although  she  entirely  dispensed  with  his  friend.  She 
sent  for  them  both,  and,  with  a  world  of  polite  speeches, 
unfolded  her  new  plans;  first,  as  if  asking  their  advice, 
and  then,  when  that  advice  seemed  adverse  to  her 
wishes,  she  said  she  must  frankly  avow  having  been 
dragged,  as  it  were,  into  an  engagement  with  these 
Mannheim  people,  and  could  now  only  solicit  their 
sanction  of  her  new  programme,  in  which  Von  Rosen- 
berg was  merely  retained  to  play  on  the  piano  his 
piece  of  music  called  The  Betrothal.  To  her  surprise 
they  appeared  quite  satisfied;  Hoffmann  said  that,  as 
far  as  himself  was  concerned,  it  was  much  better;  he 
had  wished  before  to  decline  his  part  in  the  concert, 
but  had  felt  delicacy  in  so  doing;  that,  as  he  was 
leaving  now  so  soon,  it  would  be  a  convenience  to 
him  to  he  at  liberty;  he  thought  that  neither  he  nor 
his  mother  would  be  at  the  concert,  as  this  would  be 
his  last  evening  with  her,  as  he  and  his  friend  pro- 
posed setting  oiF  the  next  morning;  they  waited  now 
merely  their  passports,  which  were  expected  daily. 
One  thing,  however,  both  he  and  Von  Rosenberg 
objected  to — the  entire  omission  of  Madame  Von 
Holzhauser's  name;  she  had  been  engaged  for  the 
night;  she  had  made  all  the  rehearsals  with  them; 
it  was  an  object  to  her  to  be  favourably  known, 
though  she  did  not  sing  in  public.  With  some  diffi- 
culty, and  not  without  Von  Rosenberg  threatening 
to  take  no  part  whatever  in  it,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  pro- 
mised that  she  should  be  included,  as  usual ;   for,  after 

all,  she  said  she  liked  her  singing  quite  as  well  as 's, 

and  that,  as  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser  must,  of  course,  be 
paid  whether  she  sung  or  no't,  she  should  sing,  as  had 
been  at  first  intended. 

These  difficulties  all  got  over,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  was 
in  better  spirits  than  ever,  and  the  preparations  went 
on  with  renewed  zeal.     It  was  now  the  day  before 


130  EVENING  ADVENTURES. 

that  on  which  the  concert  was  to  be  given.  The 
dining-room  was  fitted  up  in  the  most  tasteful  manner 
for  the  occasion;  there  had  been,  for  several  days,  a 
sound  of  workmen  hammering  and  sawing ;  and  there 
was  now  a  great  carrying  in  of  benches  and  chairs, 
and  a  nailing  up  of  scarlet  and  blue  cloth.  Cuttings 
of  gold  lace  had  been  swept  out  into  the  street,  to- 
gether with  many  a  shred  and  triangular  piece  of  bright- 
coloured  cloth  and  paper,  greatly  to  the  enriching  of 
such  wild-haired  and  barefooted  children  as  amused 
themselves  with  hunting  for  street-treasures.  The 
most  gracious  invitations  had  been  issued  to  tie 
Geheimerath's  family,  and  been  accepted ;  and  they 
and  the  Hoffmanns  were  not  only  permitted,  but 
requested  also,  to  extend  invitations  to  their  particular 
friends.  Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  made  calls  on  four  or 
five  families  who  were  considered  the  elite  of  the  place, 
to  whom  also  tickets  were  presented  ;  "  for  what  is 
the  use  of  an  entertainment,"  said  she,  "  if  one  has 
not  plenty  of  people  at  it?"  Garlands  of  flowers  were 
ordered  for  the  walls,  and  the  two  thousand  green- 
house plants  were  disposed  about  on  the  stairs,  in  the 
refreshment-rooms,  and  in  the  balcony,  over  which 
was  hung  an  awning  of  striped  linen,  and  which  was 
to  be  illuminated  with  coloured  lamps. 

Nothing  could  be  more  satisfactory.  The  servants 
of  the  house  told  of  it  to  servants  out  of  the  house; 
Mrs.  Hoffmann's  little  Bena  stole  down  many  times 
in  the  day,  to  get  a  glimpse  of  it;  and  she  never  failed, 
when  she  went  to  the  market  or  to  the  grocer's,  to 
report  of  what  was  going  on.  The  families  who  had 
received  invitations,  talked  of  it  to  those  who  had 
received  none ;  and,  one  way  and  another,  it  filled 
the  little  city  with  speculation  and  wonder. 

On  the  morning  of  this  day  Mrs.  Hoffmann  and  her 
son  had  been  sitting  much  longer  than  usual  after 


EVENING    ADVENTURES.  131 

their  breakfast,  in  deep  discussion,  which  l.ecamc  so, 
earnest,  and  lasted  so  long,  as  almost  to  threaten  the 
total  forgetting-  of  all  usual  preparation  for  the  one 
o'clock  dinner. 

Karl  looked  ill  and  anxious,  and  as  if  he  had  passed 
a  sleepless  night.  His  mother  imagined  the  cause,  but 
Caroline's  name  was  not  mentioned  by  either  of  them. 
They  talked,  however,  of  the  concert,  and  how  that 
the  Geheimerath's  family  were  offended  at  the  slight 
put  on  Von  Rosenberg,  and  would  now  absent  them- 
selves. ■  He  said  that  he  himself  thought  not  of  going. 
The  truth  was,  he  had  now,  after  a  painful  struggle 
with  himself,  resigned  all  hope  of  Caroline;  he  not 
only  thought  that  she  preferred  the  young  English- 
man, but  that  he  had  mistaken  her  character.  Such 
as  she  then  appeared,  such  as  she  had  appeared  for 
the  last  month,  and  as  she  seemed  studiously  to  wish 
to  appear,  could  never  make  him  happy — ought  not, 
in  fact,  to  have  been  chosen  by  him.  The  decision 
he  had  come  to  had  cost  him  too  much  to  be  again 
risked.  But  on  this  subject  they  spoke  not.  They 
talked  of  the  future  and  of  the  past ;  of  friends  whom 
they  had  known  and  loved,  and  who  were  now  dead: 
they  talked  on  subjects  of  affection  and  sorrow,  which, 
suiting  the  state  of  both  their  feelings,  seemed  tacitly 
to  ally  their  hearts  in  closer  union.  After  this,  he 
set  about  arranging  his  own  small  possessions — his 
books,  and  engravings,  and  music — as  they  were  to 
remain,  probably  for  some  years;  and  then,  leaving  his 
mother  to  pack  his  clothes  for  his  journey,  went  to 
assist  his  friend  Von  Rosenberg,  who,  by  no  means 
so  methodical  as  himself,  would,  he  knew,  be  no  little 
obliged  for  his  assistance. 

"What  a  confusion  there  was  in  Von  Rosenberg's 
room !  Clothes,  books,  papers,  music,  musical  instru- 
ments, engravings,  boots,  pipes,  lying  about  in  the 
t 


132  EVENING  ADVENTURES. 

most  hopeless  disorder,  whilst  his  dog,  which  he  had 
threatened  many  a  time  to  introduce  to  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son, as  a  musical  genius,  because  he  had  been  taught 
by  his  master  to  bark  to  the  musical  scale,  sat  in  the 
midst  of  all,  with  the  most  rueful  countenance,  as  if 
he  were  fully  aware,  as  no  doubt  he  was,  that  he  was 
about  to  be  parted  from  his  belo.ved  master 

"  You  are  not  badly  off  for  shirts,"  said  Karl, 
arranging  smoothly  and  tidily  into  the  bottom  of  the 
portmanteau  a  dozen  of  those  useful  articles  of  ap- 
parel. "  Those  same  shirts,"  said  he,  "  came  into 
my  room,  a  week  ago,  in  a  most  mysterious  manner. 
I  thought  the  washerwoman  had  brought  them  to  me 
by  mistake.  I  told  her  so :  they  had  then  laid  there 
several  days :  she  said  no,  and  opened  one  of  diem 
in  my  presence;  it  was  marked  with  my  name! 
Excellent  shirts  they  are,  and  beautiful  linen — I 
never  had  such  in  my  life  before.  It  looked  rather 
absurd,"  continued  Von  Rosenberg,  "to  wonder  before 
one's  washerwoman  how  one  became  possessed  of  a 
dozen  new  shirts;  so  1  said,  very  gravely,  that  I 
supposed  they  were  my  new  shirts  come  home  from 
making ;  that  I  wondered  how  I  could  forget  having 
ordered  them." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Karl,  smiling  significantly,  "  I 
understand." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Von  Rosenberg,  "  they  pretend 
to  know  nothing  about  it.  Pauline  says  she  has 
been  quite  too  busy  to  work  for  me  ;  but  it's  her  own 
sewing;  nobody  else  could  sew  so  neatly;"  and  he 
very  roughly  drew  forth  another,  to  make  his  friend 
bear  testimony  to  the  truth  of  his  words. 

"  I  am  no  judge  of  such  things,  indeed,"  said 
Karl;  "  and,  besides,  it's  no  joke  folding  them  neatly 
again." 

"  However,"  continued  the  other,  "  Franz  said  that 


EVENING  ADVVNTURES.  133 

both  his  aunt  and  his  sister  had  been  making  shirts, 
and  that  he  was  sure  she  never  took  such  pains  foi 
his  father; — the  dear  girl!  I  wish  you  would  look 
only  at  a  wristband!" 

"  I  cannot  indeed,  my  good  fellow!"  returned  Karl. 
Von  Rosenberg  said  no  more,  for  he  had  forgotten  till 
that  moment  how  much  less  happy  his  friend  was  than 
himself. 

There  was  presently  afterwards  a  rattling  tramp  of 
horses  along  the  rude,  hard  pavement  of  the  street. 
Karl  was  standing  by  the  window  and  looked  down. 
It  was  Caroline,  Bell  Ponsonby,  and  Arthur  Burnett, 
followed  by  their  groom,  taking  their  afternoon  ride. 
Caroline  looked  proud  and  happy  as  a  queen  on  the 
day  of  a  victory;  she  was  triumphing  over  her  rival. 
Burnett  was  close  at  her  side,  and  was  saying  some- 
thing to  her  which  called  a  heightened  colour  to  her 
cheek,  whilst  her  bright  laughing  eyes  avoided  his 
glance;  she  looked  upwards  at  the  houses  opposite, 
and  through  the  open  casement  saw  Hoffmann.  They 
had  not  seen  each  other  for  several  days.  Whatever 
might  be  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  a  change 
instantly  came  over  hers — an  expression  of  surprise, 
and  of  deep  and  painful  interest;  it  was  at  once  as  if 
the  true-hearted,  gentle  Caroline  Palmer  had  passed 
before  him,  such  as  she  had  seemed  in  the  days  of 
their  earlier  acquaintance,  as  she  had  won  his  love, 
and  as  she  still  remained,  the  beloved  of  his  heart. 
Poor  Karl!  he  had  been  firm  as  a  rock  till  then,  but 
that  momentary  expression  unmanned  him,  and,  no 
way  ashamed  that  his  friend  should  witness  his  weak- 
ness, he  covered  his  face  with  his  hand,  and  wept 
bitterly. 

Caroline  rode  on,  forgetting  for  a  moment  the  gay 
flattery  of  Burnett,  and  her  triumph  over  Bell  Pon 
sonby.     She  wished  she  had  not  seen  Karl,  for  sha 

12 


134  EVENING  ADVENTURES. 

thought  his  pale,  sad  countenance  would  haunt  her  fol 
days ;  she  dropped  her  veil  over  her  riding-hat,  that 
the  tears,  which  were  filling  her  eyes,  might  not  he 
seen,  when,  all  at  once,  Bell,  who  had  heen  rallying  her 
on  her  sudden  gravity,  without  receiving  an  answer, 
either  intentionally  or  accidentally  touched  her  horse 
with  her  riding- whip,  and  the  creature  set  off  on  a 
brisk  gallop.  Caroline  was  an  expert  horsewoman^ 
and  kept  her  seat;  but  Burnett,  who  was  terrified  for 
her,  sprang  after  her  ;  Bell  would  not  be  out-done  in 
riding,  and  they  both  dashed  through  the  Mannheim 
gate  furiously  and  abreast.  At  once  there  was  a  shriek, 
and  a  rush  of  people  after  them;  but  the  groom  only, 
who  had  not  yet  passed  the  gate,  was  stopped.  A 
mob  of  indignant  people  at  once  rushed  together;  a 
boy,  they  said,  had  been  knocked  down  and  ridden 
over;  some  said  that  he  was  killed,  others  that  his  leg 
was  broken,  and  all  said  that  it  was  long  expected 
that  these  mad  English  would  do  some  mischief  with 
their  wild  riding.  It  happened,  fortunately,  that  the 
groom  was  by  no  means  of  a  violent  temper,  and' 
spoke  German  also ;  he  said  they  were  only  riding  to 
Mannheim,  and  would  return  that  same  way  in  a  few 
nours ;  that  his  master  was  well  known,  and  very  rich, 
and  would  do  all  that  a  gentleman  could  do ;  but  that 
now  he  must  follow  his  master,  and  would  explain 
to  him  what  had  happened.  The  people  let  him  go, 
seeing  he  was  so  reasonable,  and  was  unquestion- 
ably not  to  blame. 

The  poor  child  was  carried  away  by  one  crowd,  in 
which  were  more  women  than  men;  whilst  another 
crowd,  in  which  were  more  men  than  women,  collected 
round  the  gate,  intending  to  lay  forcible  hands  on  the 
English  party  when  they  returned,  and  conduct  them 
to  the  Amthaus.  Both  Arthur  Burnett  and  Bell 
knew  that  some  misclaie*f  had  been  done  in  passing 


EVENING  ADVENTURES.  135 

through  the  gate,  but  they  stayed  not  in  their  riding 
for  all  that — Burnett  believing  that  Caroline's  horse 
had  run  away  with  her,  and  Bell  being  determined 
not  to  be  out-ridden. 

The  brisk  exercise  and  animation  of  this  spirited 
Tide  had  restored,  in  great  measure,  Caroline's  gaiety; 
and  her  first  feeling,  on  being  overtaken,  was  plea- 
sure in  Bell  Ponsonby's  witnessing  Burnett's  anxiety 
about  her.  They  had  ridden  to  Mannheim  merely 
for  a  bracelet  of  Bell's,  which  she  wanted  for  the  next 
evening,  and,  being  ready  to  return,  Burnett  gave  his 
purse,  containing  a  considerable  amount  of  florins,  to 
his  groom,  telling  him  to  return  direct  to  Heidelberg, 
and  distribute  what  was  needful,  on  account  of  the 
accident,  for  that,  as  the  evening  was  fine,  he  and  the 

ladies   would   cross  the  Neckar   at ,  and  return 

home  by  Ladenburg,  which  place  they  all  had  a  desire 
to  see. 

The  little  Bena  was  busied  in  Mrs.  Hoffmann's 
kitchen,  washing  and  preparing  a  very  nice  salad, 
which  would  be  needed  for  the  evening  meal,  whilst 
her  mistress  was  whipping  up  a  rich  raspberry  cream, 
which,  with  a  variety  of  cold  meats,  cakes,  and  tarts 
of  various  kinds,  were  to  constitute  a  little  supper, 
which  Karl  was  to  eat  with  his  two  friends,  this  being  the 
last  evening  they  all  could  sup  together,  as  the  mor- 
row was  the  Wilkinsons'  concert,  when  Von  Rosen- 
berg would  be  engaged.  All  at  once,  a  violent  ringing 
was  heard  at  the  Wilkinsons'  bell ;  and  presently,  a 
peal  not  much  less  violent  sounded  also  on  Mrs. 
Hoffmann's  bell.  The  widow  started,  and  Bena  ran 
fo  the  stair-head  and  pulled  the  spring-latch,  waiting 
the  while  to  see  who  was  coming.  There  was  a  loud 
talking  on  the  Wilkinsons'  stair-landing — all  the  ser- 
vants were  standing  grouped  together,  and  among 
them,  sure  enough,  stood  a  'gendarme,  seeming  very 


136  EVENING  ADVENTURES. 

vehement  in  his  discourse.  Whilst  she  was  making 
these  hasty  observations,  a  little  wild-looking  woman, 
with  her  hair  almost  shaken  down  with  running,  and 
quite  out  of  hreath,  came  panting  up  the  long  stairs. 

"The  poor  lame  Peter,"  said  the  woman,  "has  got 
his  arm  or  his  leg  broken,  or  both ;  those  random 
English  people  have  ridden  over  him  :" 

Bena  began  sobbing  violently,  whilst  the  messen- 
ger of  evil  tidings  proceeded  into  the  kitchen,  where 
she  met  Mrs.  Hoffmann.  "  Those  random  English 
people,"  repeated  she,  "have  ridden  over  the  lame 
Peter  !  Poor  creature,  as  it  was  a  warm  afternoon,  and 
he  had  been  sitting  all  day  by  the  grandfather,  a 
neighbour's  daughter  drew  him  out  in  a  child's  chaise, 
and,  just  as  they  were  going  through  the  Mannheim 
gate,  the  English,  who  were  coming  down  the  street, 
began  to  gallop,  and  dashed  through  the  gate,  never 
heeding  who  was  passing  at  the  time;  the  girl  that 
was  drawing  him  attempted  to  get  out  of  the  way,  but 
some  way  the  chaise  got  overturned — some  said  was 
knocked  over — and  there  lay  poor  Peter  under  the 
horses'  ifbn  shoes,  all  covered  with  blood,  and  lying 
as  if  dead.  Now  you  must  let  Bena  come  home  for 
this  night,  for  the  mother  is  well  nigh  out  of  her  senses." 

Bena  should  go,  to  be  sure,  said  Mrs.  Hoffmann  j 
and  then,  giving  her  half  a  florin  for  her  mother,  she 
bade  her  haste  away  at  her  best  speed,  and  compose 
herself  as  much  as  she  could,  for  that,  after  all,  it 
might  not  be  so  bad  as  she  feared.  The  wild-looking 
woman  saw  her  go,  and,  being  tired  by  the  haste  she 
had  made,  took  the  liberty  of  remaining  a  little  while 
to  rest.  She  then  went  on  to  tell  how  poor  lame 
Peter  sate  at  home  all  day  propped  in  his  chair, 
close  by  grandfather's  bed,  and  reached  him,  now 
and  then,  sups  of  wine  and  water,  the  only  thing  that 
eueered  the  old  man;  and  how  he  would  read  to  him 


EVENING    ADVENTURES*  137 

for  hours — for  Peter  was  a  good  scholar,  and  so  was 
the  old  man;  and  then,  when  the  poor  old  soul  was 
tired  or  wanted  to  sleep,  how  lame  Peter  would  amuse 
himself  with  drawing;  and  oh!  he  drew  heautifully, 
only  he  rubbed  out  everything  when  he  drew  on  a 
slate,  for  they  could  not  afford  to  buy  paper;  but  that 
sometimes  the  gentlefolks  sent  him  paper,  and  then  he 
was  happy!  Mrs.  Hoffmann  knew  that,  for  she  often 
sent  him  both  paper  and  pencils  herself.  There  were 
some  ucntlemen,  she  said,  who  were  wishing  to  get 
him  into  a  drawing-school  where  he  could  learn  to 
maintain  himself.  Mrs.  Hoffmann  knew  that  also, 
for  it  was  her  son's  scheme,  and  was  just  about  being 
accomplished,  The  woman  said  that  he  had  opened 
his  eyes  while  they  were  carrying  him  away  from  the 
gate,  and  had  prayed  so  fervently  not  to  go  to  the 
hospital,  that  they  had  carried  him  home,  and  laid 
him  on  his  bed. 


CHAPTER  XL 

EVENING  ADVENTURES  CONTINUED. 

The  news  of  this  unfortunate  accident,  as  it  was 
communicated  by  the  gendarme,  with  an  order 
from  the  Amthaus  requiring  the  immediate  appear- 
ance of  the  English  cavalcade  to  answer  for  it,  made 
no  little  sensation  in  the  Wilkinsons'  household.  Mrs. 
Palmer,  poor  lady,  was  building  up,  as  usual,  a 
splendid  vision  of  her  daughter,  as  the  rich  Mrs. 
Burnett,  figuring  away  in  some  great  European  capital, 
whilst  her  friend  was  busy  devising  an  arabesque  pat- 
tern to  cut  in  gold  paper,  for  some  ornament  of  the 
concert-room,  when  the  door  was  suddenly  opened,  and 
the  valet  and  the  French  maid  entered  together,  with 
the  news  that  "  somebody  had  been  thrown  down  by 


138  EVENING   ADVENTURES. 

somebody's  horse,  and  here  was  a  policeman  very 
violent  about  it!  What  was  to  be  done?"  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  said  she  doubted  not  but  that  the  man 
wanted  money;  the  valet,  therefore,  might  give  him 
those  six  florins,  and  send  him  about  his  business; 
what  further  was  needful,  Mr.  Burnett  would  do 
when  he  returned. 

The  valet  came  into  the  room  again,  balancing  the 
money  on  his  hand,  and  venturing  upon  a  smile  in 
the  presence  of  his  lady;  the  man,  he  said,  had 
refused  the  money.  "  Send  him  to  me!"  said  she. 
The  gendarme  entered.  She  was  sorry — extremely 
sorry,  she  said,  for  what  had  happened — the  horses 
were  so  spirited — but  she  hoped  the  poor  child  was  not 
so  much  hurt;  she  would  send  a  servant  with  money 
and  wine  immediately ;  that  they  would  pay  all  need- 
ful expenses;  and  when  Mr.  Burnett  returned,  which 
would  be  in  an  hour  or  two,  he  would  certainly  attend 
at  the  Amthaus,  for  that  this  accident  would  dis- 
tress him  extremely.  So  spake  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  and 
offered  him  again  the  six  florins.  The  man  looked 
for  a  moment  at  the  offered  money,  as  if  ashamed  to 
accept  what  was,  doubtless,  intended  as  a  bribe ;  and 
then,  perhaps  recollecting  that  a  bribe  could  be  of  no 
manner  of  use,  closed  his  hand  tightly  upon  it,  and 
went  out,  neither  looking  pleased  nor  displeased. 

"  What  a  vexatious  affair  it  is!"  said  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son ;  "  Arthur  is  always  getting  into  trouble  of  this 
kind  He  rode  over  a  woman  in  London — a  fortunate 
thing  for  her,  however.  She  was  a  poor  dressmaker ; 
her  arm  was  broken,  and  someway  badly  set;  and  I 
assure  you  he  has  to  pay  her  ten  shillings  a-week. 
At  Naples  he  rode  over  a  lazzaroni;  the  man  was 
very  old  and  ill  at  the  time ;  I  dare  say  he  would  not 
have  lived  long,  poor  soul,  but,  however,  he  died; 
and,  as  all  his  brother  beggars  laid  his  death  at  the 


EVENING  ADVENTURES.  139 

young  Englishman's  door,  it  became  quite  dangerous 
for  Arthur  t>  go  out;  1  thought  they  certainly  would 
murder  him!" 

"  The  horrid  wretches  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer. 

"  But  there's  a  wonderful  charm  in  English  money," 
continued  the  other;  "  we  distributed  it  freely,  and 
presently,  instead  of  our  carriage  being  beset  by  a 
mob,  cursing  furiously,  we  were  followed  by  shout* 
and  blessings !  I  am  sorry,  however,  that  it  has 
again  happened,  for  it  always  brings  vexation  and 
trouble." 

Towards  seven  o'clock,  when  it  was  getting  quite 
dusk,  the  crowd  assembled  at  the  Mannheim  gate  were 
surprised  to  see  the  English  groom  returning  alone. 
"Where  are  the  others?"  demanded  they  angrily, 
imagining  that  they  were  eluding  justice.  The  man 
said  that  they  had  gone  round  by  Laden  burg,  and 
would  thus  return  by  the  bridge;  they  grew  suddenly 
angry,  and  began  to  swear  desperate  German  oaths. 
The  groom  drew  up  at  a  wirthshaus  just  within  the 
city,  and  called  for  wine.  His  master,  he  said,  was 
the  richest  Englishman  that  ever  came  into  Heidel- 
berg, and  that,  if  twenty  arms  and  legs  were  broken, 
he  could  pay  for  them  all;  and  that  anybody  who 
now  chose,  might  drink  a  pint  of  wine  at  his  expense. 
A  deal  of  wine  was  drank,  and  then  they  escorted  the 
groom  along  the  street,  insisting  on  his  going  down 
to  the  bridge,  to  wait  for  his  master  and  the  ladies. 

"For  Heaven's  sake!  Mr.  Burnett,  what  means 
this?"  asked  Caroline,  as  they  were  received  on 
the  bridge  by  a  crowd  of  people,  who  were  talking 
of  the  Amthaus;  "and  why  are  we  to  go  to  the 
Amthaus?" 

Burnett  told  her  that  somebody  had  been  knocked 
down  in  the  Mannheim  gate — somebody  drunk,  most 
likely — that  was  all;   that  she  need  not  alarm  herself, 


140  EVENING  ADVENTURES. 

for  there  was  no  danger.  The  little  city  was  all 
alive;  crowds  were  everywhere  assembled  to  see  them 
go  by,  as  if  they  were  some  wonderful  spectacle. 
Students  stood  in  close  groups  together,  with  their 
long  pipes  in  their  hands,  and  their  dogs  at  their 
heels,  to  get  a  closer  survey  of  the  two  English 
beauties,  who  were  this  time  compelled  to  go  at  a  foot's 
pace.  The  Amthaus  was  lighted  up,  and  there  was  a 
crowd  assembled  about  the  door,  which,  in  the  uncer- 
tain dusk,  looked  greater  than  it  really  was.  Caroline 
thought  everybody  looked  sullen  and  angry.  The 
gendarmes,  who  were  walking  about,  drew  up  before 
the  door  as  they  approached ;  they  were  ordered  to 
alight,  to  walk  in,  and  answer  for  themselves.  There 
was  a  deal  of  uncertainty,  for  some  time,  as  to  whether 
Burnett's  horse  or  Bell  Ponsonby's  had  injured  the 
boy.  Arthur  said  he  would  allow  no  lady  to  be  in 
fault;  and  at  length  it  was  decided  that  all  blame 
should  rest  upon  him.  It  was  one  Peter  Heiliger, 
they  were  then  informed,  who  had  been  ridden  over; 
he  was  overturned  from  a  little  carriage,  which  the 
girl  who  drew  him  attempted,  but  in  vain,  to  remove 
out  of  the  way  ;  the  child  lay  upon  the  pavement  at 
the  moment  the  horses  entered  the  gateway,  but  no 
attempt  had  been  made,  on  the  part  of  the  riders,  to 
pull  up,  or  to  slacken  their  pace  ;  the  horses,  also, 
were  put  into  a  gallop  at  the  moment  before  they 
entered  the  gate.  Several  persons  swore  to  having 
felt  in  jeopardy  of  their  lives — they  had  started  aside 
just  in  time  to  save  themselves;  an  old  person,  or  one 
infirm,  could  not  do  so;  and  this  cripple  had  been 
ridden  over,  his  life  endangered,  his  leg  broken,  and 
his  arm  seriously  bruised.  Medical  men  testified  to 
these  facts. 

Arthur  Burnett,  on  his  part,  said  that  Miss  Palmer's 
horse  had  taken  fright — that  it  was  apt  to  run  away; 


EVENING  ADVENTURES.  141 

and,  seeing  this,  and  being  alarmed  for  the  lady,  he  had 
put  spurs  to  his  horse  to  follow  her;  and  that  Miss  Pon- 
sonby,  supposing  merely  that  he  wished  them  to  have  a 
brisk  ride,  had  urged  forward  her  horse  at  the  same 
moment;  that  he  was  sorry  for  what  had  happened; 
but  that  he  thought  ladies  ought  not  to  have  been 
met  by  a  rude  crowd,  such  as  had  met  them  on  the 
bridge;  that  English  ladies  were  not  used  to  it, 
whatever  Germans  might  be;  that  it  was  altogether 
an  accident;  that  he  would  pay  anything  that  was 
necessary,  either  to  the  child,  or  the  parents,  or 
doctor,  or  town,  or  anything,"  said  he,  growing  angry, 
and  only  not  swearing,  because  he  thought  it  impolite 
to  do  so  in  the  presence  of  ladies.  The  Amtmann  told 
him  that  all  that  was  necessary  for  him  at  present 
was,  not  to  leave  Heidelberg  without  permission ;  in 
fact,  that  no  passport  would  be  granted  him,  till  the 
consequences  of  this  accident  were  further  known. 

That  evening,  as  Caroline,  about  half-an-hour  after 
her  return,  was  walking  along  the  passage  on  the 
way  to  her  own  bedroom,  she  saw  Bena,  who  had  been 
sent  by  her  mother,  for  an  hour,  to  put  away  the 
supper  things,  as  her  mistress  had  company.  She 
was  looking,  of  course,  very  sorrowful,  and  her  coun- 
tenance bore  evident  marks  of  weeping. 

"  What  is  amiss,  my  poor  Bena?"  asked  Caroline, 
who  was  always  in  the  habit  of  noticing  her  kindly. 
At  this  question  Bena  began  sobbing  violently. 
"  What  is  amiss?"  asked  Caroline  again  ;  "  can  I  do 
anything  to  comfort  you?" 

"The  poor  lame  Peter!  the  poor  lame  Peter!" 
sobbed  the  girl,  holding  her  apron  to  her  face.  "  Is 
he  ill  ?  "  asked  Caroline.  "  Oh,  Fraulein '"  exclaimed 
Bena,  as  if  reproachfully — for  she  had  no  idea  but 
that  Caroline  knew  it  was  he  who  had  been  ridden  over. 
At  once  the  truth  suggested  itself  to  her;  a  sicken- 


142  EVENING  ADVENTURES. 

ing  sense  of  misery  came  over  her — the  poor  lame 
Peter  Heiliger  was  Bena's  brother.  "  And  is  it  indeed 
your  brother,  then?"  asked  she,  with  tears  in  her  own 
eyes,  "  who  has  been  hurt  to-night?  How  grieved  I 
am!  Will  you  let  me  go  and  see  him  to-morrow  ?  I 
will  do  anything  for  you;  indeed  I  will,  Bena!" 
Bena  thought  the  English  Fraulein  was  very  good  to 
speak  so  kindly,  and  she  felt  as  if  she  loved  her.  "  I 
am  going  now,"  she  said,  "to  sit  up  all  night  with 

him,  and  we  live  in Gassfi ;  and,  if  you  are 

so  very  kind  as  to  come  and  see  him,  I  shall  be  there 
in  the  morning."  Caroline  said  that  she  would  not 
fail,  and,  bidding  the  girl  a  kind  good  night,  went 
sorrowfully  to  her  own  chamber. 

The  long  expected  passports  arrived  this  evening. 
Karl  opened  them  during  supper,  and,  to  their  infinite 
mortification  and  annoyance,  found  them  incorrectly 
made  out;  and  now  they  could  not  set  off  for  at  least 
ten  days! 

Everybody  knows  how  unpleasant  it  is,  when  one's 
clothes  are  all  packed,  all  one's  adieus  made,  and 
one's  mind  wrought  up  into  the  proper  mood  for  a 
departure,  to  have  one's  journey  deferred,  whether  it 
be  by  losing  our  place  by  coach,  eilwagon,  or  steam- 
boat, or  by  having  one's  passport  incorrectly  made 
out,  as  in  this  case.  It  is  a  very  unpleasant  thing 
when  one  knows  that  one's  friends  and  acquaintance, 
on  some  particular  morning,  have  said,  "  So  and  so 
has  a  nice  day  for  his  journey  ;  he  must  be  just  now 
setting  off ;  well,  he  is  a  good  sort  of  fellow,  a  merry 
fellow; — were  sorry  to  part  with  him."  It  is  very 
disagreeable  to  meet  these  same  friends  in  a  day  or 
two,  and  be  saluted  with,  "And  so  you  are  not 
gone,  after  all!"  One  feels  as  if  they  thought  they 
had  wasted  sympathy  over  one.  One  cannot  expect 
eve   one's  dearest  friends  to  weep  at  a  second  parting, 


RENEWED  HOPE.  148 

although  it  be  the  real  one.  After" this,  one  can  only 
slink  away  as  quietly  as  possible,  without  a  farewell 
from  anybody ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RENEW  E  D     HOP  E. 

The  next  morning  Caroline  rose  early,  and,  ordering 
Gretchen  to  bring  coffee  to  her  own  room,  and  to 
excuse  her  breakfasting  with  the  Wilkinsons,  set  out 
on  her  visit  to  the  lame  Peter.     When  she  reached 

Gasse,  she  met  Bena  returning  to  her  mistress; 

the  girl  said  she  would  go  back  and  show  her  the  way  ; 
— that  it  was  a  poor  place,  though  the  mother  always 
kept  it  clean.  It  was  a  wretched  upper-room  into 
which  Bena  led  her;  there  were  two  beds  in  it,  partly 
concealed  by  curtains -hung  from  the  ceiling.  It  was 
clean  certainly,  but  close,  and  filled,  like  all  houses 
of  the  German  poor,  by  a  compound  of  strong  un- 
pleasant smells.  Caroline,  however,  was  in  no 
humour  to  make  difficulties;  she  entered  cheerfully, 
and  looked  round;  the  curtains  of  one  bed  had  been 
partly  undrawn,  and  revealed  the  form  of  a  very  old 
man,  who,  but  for  the  glance  of  his  large  hollow  grey 
eyes,  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  corpse  laid  out. 
He  was  propped  in  his  bed,  and  lay  stiff  and  still, 
with  his  large  bony  hands  spread  out,  feeble  and 
heavy,  upon  the  coarse  home-spun  sheet,  which 
was  turned  deeply  down  over  his  bed-cover.  He 
had  evidently  just  been  laid  straight  for  the  day; 
the  hands,  the  head,  had  been  laid  there  for  him ;  he 
was' too  infirm  to  raise  even  his  hands  to  his  head. 
The  eye,  however,  fixed  inquiringly  on  Bena.  "  It 
is  a  right  good  English  young  lady!"  said  she;  he 
was  not  at  all  deaf,  for  she  spoke  rather  low,  and  tho 


144  RENEWED  HOrE. 

intelligence  of  his  eye  showed  that  'his  intellect  was 
clear.  "  Will  she  not  sit  down?"  said  he,  in  a 
low,  hollow,  and  husky  voice,  which  sounded  almost 
sepulchral ;  but  Caroline  was  then  talking  with  Bena's 
mother,  who,  poor  woman,  overwhelmed  with  troubles, 
and  harassed  and  weary,  was  in  no  humour  to  re- 
ceive consolation.  The  lame  Peter  lay  in  the  other 
bed,  the  curtains  of  which  his  mother  had  just  drawn, 
in  the  hope  that  he  might  sleep;  but  his  groans  and 
his  pitiful  voice  asking  for  water  to  drink,  proved 
that  he  slept  not.  "  Thou  must  go  now,  Bena,"  said 
the  mother;  "dear  Heaven!  what  will  become  of 
me?"  "  Give  me  the  cup,  Bena,"  said  Caroline;  "  I 
will  sit  by  your  brother  a  little  while.  Bena  gave 
her  the  cup,  and,  at  her  mother's  bidding,  after  kiss- 
ing the  poor  Peter,  and  bidding  the  old  man  good- 
by,  left  the  room.  "Poor  fellow!"  said  Caroline, 
persisting  that  she  would  still  sit  by  his  bed ;  "  he  and  I 
are  old  acquaintance;  if  he  could  speak,  he  would  tell 
you  so."  The  boy  understood  every  word  she  said, 
and,  spite  of  his  agony,  smiled.  "  He  and  I,"  con- 
tinued Caroline,  "  have  known  each  other  long.  I 
have  had  a  deal  of  talk  with  him,  poor  fellow,  when 
he  used  to  sit  in  the  warm  summer  days,  on  one  of 
the  seats  in  the  Anlagen."  He  lay  with  his  large 
eyes  fixed  upon  her  face,  and  looked  pleased.  The 
mother  was  mollified,  and  said  that  the  fraulein  was 
very  good,  but  that  she  had  more  upon  her  then  than 
she  could  well  bear. 

Two  or  three  neighbours  then  came  in,  One  had 
promised  to  sit  by  the  two  invalids  whilst  the  mother 
took  home  some  washing,  which  she  was  now  unable 
to  do.  Caroline  said  she  would  sit  by  the  boy  till  her 
return,  which  would  not  be  long,  and  the  neighbour 
busied  nerself  in  some  domestic  work,  in  a  little 
adjoining  chamber,  looking  in  every  now  and  then  to 


RENEWED  HOPE.  145 

sett  that  nothing  was  wanted,  but  not  venturing  to 
talk  much  to  the  young  English  lady. 

Little  did  Caroline  think  that  the  pale,  hut  interest- 
ing young  cripple,  that,  very  soon  after  her  arrival  in 
Heidelberg,  she  had  noticed,  was  the  brother  of  Mrs- 
Hoffmann's  maid,  much  less  that  she  should  be  in- 
strumental in  his  suffering  thus.  Poor  boy !  it  was 
that  pleading  expression  of  countenance,  which  la 
so  peculiar  to  the  suffering  and  the  deformed,  which 
in  him  had  first  excited  her  attention.  She  had  sat 
down  beside  him  on  the  bench,  and  talked  with  him ; 
she  had  found  him  wonderfully  intelligent;  they  had 
become  friends,,  as  it  were,  and  had  always,  when 
they  met,  exchanged  smiles,  if  nothing  more.  Of 
late,  however,  she  had  not  seen  him — had  almost 
forgotten  him,  in  fact.  She  did  not  know,  how- 
ever, how  much  he  had  missed  her;  how  he  had 
sat,  and  waited,  and  watched,  in  the  hope  that  some 
of  the  handsome  young  ladies  that  went  by  might 
prove  to  be  she.  But  no!  Many  looked  kindly  on 
him,  but  she  came  not!  Poor  Peter!  h^  forgot  his 
pain,  almost,  when  he  saw  her  sitting  unexpectedly 
beside  him ;  and,  whilst  she  was  thinking  with  herself, 
the  lids  closed  over  his  heavy  eyes,  and  he  dropped 
quietly  asleep. 

Caroline  let  down  the  curtain  softly,  and  then,  cross- 
ing the  room  with  noiseless  steps,  began  to  talk  to  the 
old  man.  He  lay  there  immovable  and  corpse-like, 
yet  with  his  pale  and  hollow  eye  full  of  intelligence. 
It  was  almost  a  surprise  to  hear  him  speak.  In  reply 
to  her  question  of  his  age,  he  said  he  was  not  old — ho 
was  only  seventy -eight ;  that  he  had  been  confined  to 
his  bed,  and  thus  helpless,  for  seven  years;  that  his 
daughter  was  very  good  to  him,  but  that  he  was  a  sore 
burden  to  her — he  knew  it  well ;  he  wished  thai  it  had 

13 


146  RENEWED  HOPE. 

pleased  God  that  this  affliction  might  have  fallen  on 
himself,  instead  of  on  the  poor  lame  Peter;  it  always 
went  so  hardly  with  a  cripple,  he  said,  and  Peter  was 
never  strong.     The  old  man  was  much  affected,  and 
ibr  some  time  he  could  not  speak ;  at  length  he  became 
more  composed.      "Poor  Peter,"  he  said,  "was  so 
clever,  he  might  he  able,  cripple  as  he  was,  to  do 
something  for  his  own  living,  and  help  his  mother.   He 
drew  very  well;  did  the  Fraulein  see  the  pictures  on 
the  walls  ? — they  were  all  Peter's  doing."   Caroline  was 
astonished ;  for  they  were  bold  and  very  correct  draw- 
ings. "  There  was  a  gentleman,"  continued  he,  "  in  the 
city,  who  had  always  taken  a  deal  of  notice  of  Peter; 
he  had  given  him  instructions  in  drawing  himself,  and 
had  made  many  people  kind  to  him,  and  now  had  got 
him  into  an  institution,  where  he  would  have  been 
well  cared  for,  and  made  quite  an  artist  of.     It  was 
a  long  way  off  where  he  was  going,  but  the  gentleman, 
who  was  leaving  Heidelberg  himself,  had  friends  there, 
and  had  promised  to  go  and  see  him — it  would  have 
been  a  capital  thing  for  him."    Caroline  said  that  the 
gentleman  was  very  kind,  and  that  she  hoped,  after  all, 
poor  Peter  could  go.     "Never,  never,"  said  the  old 
man;  "I  shall  see  him  carried  from  that  bed  to  his 
grave:"  and  again,  unable  to  speak,  he  paused  for 
some  time.  "He  was  to  have  gone  the  next  week,"  at 
length  continued  he ;   "  the  mother  worked  hard,  and 
saved  a  few  florins.     Some  ladies  sent  him  a  shirt  or 
two,  and  stockings,  and  Madame  Hoffmann" — Caro- 
line started  at  the   name — "a  good  lady  is  that!  had 
him  measured,  and  all  at  her  own  expense,  and  an  old 
suit  of  Mr.  Karl's — it  was  he,  Heaven  bless  him  !  that 
got  him  into  the  institution  and  did  so  much  for  him — 
made  up  for  him.    Oh,  fraulein,  it  would  have  touched 
your  heart  to  have  seen  the  poor  fellow  in  his  new 


UENEWED  HOPE.  147 

clothes— so  proud  as  he  was!  and  there  they  all  are  in 
that  old  trunk  there;,  and  there  they  may  lie,  for 
what  need  he  will  have  of  them !" 

A  few  moments  afterwards,  Caroline  was  startled 
hy  the  sound  of  Hoffmann's  voice  speaking  to  some 
one  outside.  She  rose  at  his  entrance;  he  saw 
that  she  had  heen  weeping;  he  saw  her  confusion; 
nor  was  the  effect  of  this  unexpected  meeting  less 
evident  in  him  than  her.  Few  words,  and  those 
constrained  and  embarrassed,  passed  between  them. 
She  did  not  tell  him  what  the  old  man  had  re- 
lated of  his  goodness ;  she  did  not  tell  him,  though 
she  wished  he  knew  it,  how  much  she  honoured  his 
benevolence — how  much  she  coveted  his  esteem  ;  she 
said,  however,  and  that  with  an  emotion  which  she 
could  not  conceal,  that  one  reflection  made  her 
wretched — that  she  had  brought  unhappiness  under 
Mrs.  Hoffmann's  roof.  She  meant,  at  the  moment,  to 
little  Bena;  but  she  felt  instantly,  that  her  words 
applied  with  equal  truth  to  others;  she  would  not 
have  recalled  them,  however,  at  the  moment,  for  the 
world.  Karl's  countenance  underwent  an  instant 
change  He  looked  at  her  for  half  a  second,  and  said 
nothing,  but  she  understood  what  he  felt — her  words 
nad  given  hope  and  happiness  to  his  heart.  He  was 
glad  that  the  passports  were  wrong;  he  resolved 
instantly  to  go  to  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  concert  that  night, 
and  not,  like  a  coward,  to  forego  any  chance  of  regain- 
ing her,  if  there  were  only  left  the  shadow  of  hope; 
and  Caroline  returned  home,  determining  to  be  worthy 
of  Hoffmann,  were  it  only  for  the  quiet  of  her  own 
conscience,  and  wishing  devoutly  that  the  Wilkinsons 
had  never  come,  and  that  she  had  never  known  the 
Ponsonbys. 

The   moment   she  entered   the  house,  she  found 
everybody  almost  angry  that  she  had  gone  out  at  all. 


148  RENEWED  HOPE. 

She  was  informed  that  Mr.  Wilkinson  had  arrived; 
that  he  had  travelled  post  all  the  way  from  Berlin, 
bur  was  now  gone  to  bed,  and  would  not  get  up  till 
the  hour  for  dressing  in  the  evening;  that  he  was 
going  to  set  off  to  Strasburg  the  next  morning,  on 
important  business,  which  would  occupy  him  a  few 
days,  and  then  that  he  would  remain  here  for  some 
weeks.  Her  mother  informed  her  that  Mr.  Wilkinson 
had  not  only  brought  her  the  diamond  ring,  but  diamond 
ear-rings  also ;  and  that  these,  and  the  diamond  cross 
which  she  would  lend  her,  would  be  superb  for  the 
grand  duchess's  ball;  and  that  Mrs.  Wilkinson  wanted 
her  to  look  at  the  concert-room,  and  to  try  on  a  new 
dress,  which  she  meant  to  have  the  pleasure  of  giving 
her,  and  which  the  dress-maker  had  been  waiting  to 
try  on  for  hours. 

Caroline  ran  to  the  concert-room,  and  found  it 
perfect;  she  kissed  Mrs.  Wilkinson  for  her  husband's 
eostly  presents;  she  kissed  her  again  for  the  beau- 
tiful white  satin  dress — the  very  dress  which  she  had 
wished  for,  but  had  been  refused  by  her  mother. 
She  surveyed  herself  in  the  large  mirror,  in  Mrs. 
Wilkinson's  dressing-room,  where  it  was  tried  on ; 
and  thought,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  was 
satisfied  by  her  appearance,  and  felt  half  sorry  to 
think  that  Bell  Ponsonby  would  not  look  half  so 
well.  What  was  her  surprise,  however,  the  next 
moment,  to  see  Bell  come  gliding  in,  in  precisely  the 
same  dress! — Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  given  a  similar  one 
to  each.  Bell  looked  wonderfully  well  that  day.  She 
was  a  blonde  beauty  of  the  most  perfect  character, 
with  large  blue  eyes,  hair  like  tinted  silver,  so  long, 
and  thick,  and  soft,  and  a  complexion  of  a  marble  white- 
ness, upon  which  the  blush  of  roses  seemed  to  be 
thrown.  She  was  strikingly  lovely  when  animated; 
she  never  looked  more  animated  than  to-day.     Mrs 


RENEWED   HOrE.  149 

Wilkinson  said  so;  Arthur  Burnett  said  so;  for  he  was 
vexed  that  Caroline  refused  to  ride.  Caroline  glanced 
at  herself  again  in  the  mirror,  and  thought  how  hag- 
gard, and  worn-out,  and  anxious  she  looked. 

"  You  must  look  better  than  this  to-night,  Lina,M 
said  Mrs.  "Wilkinson,  as  they  were  sitting  together 
after  an  early  dinner:  and,  "bless  me,  child,  how 
shockingly  ill  you  look !"  said  her  mother,  as  Caroline 
came  into  the  room  to  dress,  her  chamber  being  wanted 
for  a  refreshment-room.  "  I  shall  look  better,  dear 
mother,"  said  she,  "  when  I  am  dressed." 

"  I  hope  so,  indeed,"  said  her  mother,  "  or  Bell 
will  exult.  I  never  in  my  life  saw  a  girl  so  unblush- 
ingly  bent  upon  gaining  a  lover  as  she  is.  I  declare, 
it  is  quite  disgraceful.  Now,  I  look  upon  Burnett  as 
all  but  your  declared  lover,  and  I  think  her  behaviour 
abominable!" 

Caroline  never  in  her  life  bestowed  more  pains  in 
dressing;  her  hair,  which  was  not  less  abundant  nor 
beautiful  than  Bell's,  but  of  the  very  opposite  colour, 
was,  as  usual,  braided  tightly  upon  her  classically- 
formed  head.  She  thought  of  the  very  first  words 
she  had  heard  Hoffmann  speak,  and  she  sighed  as  she 
thought  he  would  not  see  it  that  night;  for  she  had 
heard  from  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  that  neither  he  nor  his 
mother  would  be  there.  The  toilet  was  completed, 
and  Mrs.  Palmer  declared  herself  satisfied  with  the 
result;  but  still  her  injunction,  again  and  again 
repeated,  was,  that  her  daughter  should  beware  of  the 
art  of  Bell  Ponsonby. 

The  whole  house  was  lighted  up;  sounds  of  music 
were  already  heard  in  the  concert-room ;  people 
began  to  arrive;  the  drawing-room  was  full  of  the 
Ponsonbys  and  their  friends ;  Caroline  and  Bell  had 
each  received  a  bouquet  of  rose  and  myrtle  from 
Arthur  Burnett,  when  Mr.  Wilkinson  entered.     He 


150  RENEWED  HOPE. 

was  tall  and  thin,  of  remarkably  suave  and  gentle- 
manly aspect.  His  high  bald  forehead  gave  him  the 
look  of  benevolence,  but  there  was  an  expression 
about  his  half-closed  eyes,  and  the  thousand  wrinkles 
that  had  gathered  at  their  angles,  and  about  his 
closely-compressed  thin  lips,  that  gave  the  idea  of 
one  who  never  missed  his  own  advantage,  nor  nevei 
let  another  gain  an  advantage  over  him.  You  might 
ask  a  favour  from  him,  but,  the  next  moment,  you 
would  be  sorry  you  had  done  it.  He  was  muni- 
ficent, like  his  wife,  but  he  always  had  his  motives 
for  being  so.  He  lived  magnificently,  and  travelled 
en  wince;  but  this  was  because  he  loved  the  homage 
it  brought  him. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  applause  when  he  entered ; 
those  who  knew  him  pressed  forward  to  greet  him, 
and  others  were  to  be  introduced.  Mrs.  Palmer  was 
charmed  with  his  reception  of  Caroline ;  he  gave  hei 
his  arm,  and  then,  suddenly  recollecting  himself,  con- 
signed her  to  Arthur  Burnett,  saying  that  was  fai 
better,  and  that  he  himself  would  have  the  pleasure 
of  conducting  her  mother  to  the  concert-room.  "  It 
is  an  understood  thing  I"  said  Mrs.  Palmer  to  herself; 
"  I  cannot  have  lost  all,  like  poor  Mrs.  Abigail  Finch ; 
or,  if  I  have,  it  is  thus  they  would  make  me  amends." 
She  attended  far  less  that  evening  to  the  music,  than 
to  her  daughter,  and,  as  she  hoped,  her  bridegroom 
elect,  who,  to  her  great  delight,  seemed  far  more 
devoted  to  her  than  to  the  gay  Bell  Ponsonby,  who 
sat  on  his  other  hand.  She  was  proud  to  think  that 
others  than  herself  might  imagine  it  a  settled  thing 
She  looked  round  the  room,  and  there  was  not,  she 
thought,  a  gentleman  to  compare  with  him ;  there  wag 
Tom  Ponsonby,  who  looked  like  a  groom  in  his 
master's  clothes ;  there  was  a  dashing  Captain  Jones, 
and  a  Baron  Von  Elfinstun,  whom  many  reckoned 


RENEWED  IIOrE.  151  > 

handsome;  but  she  thought  otherwise.  There  was 
that  Von  Rosenberg,  about  whom  Caroline  said  so 
much,  with  his  long  hair  and  Raphael-like  face, 
leaning  now  on  the  music-desk,  as  if  he  took  no  in- 
terest whatever  in  the  performance ;  and  there  was 
that  young  Hoffmann,  whom  Caroline  at  first  had 
thought  so  clever,  standing  in  one  of  the  recesses  ot 
the  windows,  with  his  arms  folded,  and  looking  so 
intently  upon  something — she  knew  not  what  or 
whom,  he  stood  so  much  in  the  shade;  but  what  was 
any  one  of  them,  in  comparison  with  Arthur  Burnett, 
with  seven  thousand  a-year,  and  such  an  inheritance 
in  prospect ! 

In  the  interval  between  the  two  parts  of  the  con- 
cert, refreshments  were  handed  round,  acquaintance 
recognised  acquaintance,  and  many  changed  their 
seats.  Hoffmann  took  the  opportunity  of  exchanging 
a  few  words  with  Caroline,  and,  at  the  commencement 
of  the  second  part,  he  was  seated  beside  her.  "  Why, 
that  actually  is  young  Hoffmann  sitting  beside  her,  and 
to  whom  she  is  now  talking  so  earnestly,"  secretly 
ejaculated  the  observant  Mrs.  Palmer.  "  What  a 
fool  the  girl  is!" 

"  Your  daughter  is  the  belle  of  the  room,"  said 
Mr.  Wilkinson,  after  he  had  leisurely  gone  the 
round  of  the  apartment,  and  criticised  every  lady 
through  his  eye-glass ;  "  upon  my  word  she  is !"  Mrs. 
Palmer  bowed,  and  was  happy  he  thought  so;  it 
almost  compensated  to  her  for  Caroline's  talking  to 
Karl.  The  compliment,  however,  was  quite  spoiled 
the  moment  afterwards,  when  she  heard  the  same 
thing  said  to  Mrs.  Ponsonby — "Your  daughter, 
ma'am,  is  unquestionably  the  finest  girl  in  the  room: 
I  protest  she  is!"     "Hush!"  said   Mrs.  Wilkinson, 

coming  between  them,  " is  going  to  sing  his 

last  song:  be  sure,  Wilkinson,  that  you  encore  it." 


152  RENEWED  HOPE. 

Poor  Mrs.  Palmer!  she  attended  neither  to '3 

last  song,  nor  yet  to  the  encore,  she  was  so  mortified 
by  the  words  of  the  false  Mr.  Wilkinson.  She 
wished  she  had  not  heard  them.  "  One  knows,"  said 
she  to  herself,  "what  a  false  world  it  is;  but  how 
much  better  to  be  deceived,  than  to  know  its  false- 
ness! Heaven  help  me!  I  begin  to  think  that  I 
may  have  been  taken  in,  like  that  poor  Mrs.  Abigail 
Finch !" 

It  was  a  charming  evening,  everybody  said — a  most 
charming  evening!  Mrs.  Ponsonby  said  she  had  not 
seen  the  arrangements  of  any  private  concert  more 
perfect,  even  in  Paris;  she  was,  in  fact,  just  in  the 
humour  to  worship  the  Wilkinsons,  so  charmed  was 
she  with  them — so  charmed  was  she  with  Arthur  Bur- 
nett, who,  all  the  latter  part  of  the  evening,  had 
devoted  himself  to  Bell.  In  proportion  as  the  Pon- 
sonbys  were  triumphant,  was  poor  Mrs.  Palmer  an- 
xious and  dispirited. 

"  What  did  Caroline  mean  by  being  taken  by  that 
young  Hoffmann  to  supper?  What  did  she  mean  by 
looking  so  pale  and  grave?"  It  was  more  than  the 
good  lady  could  bear. 

"  Have  you  and  Mr.  Burnett  quarrelled?"  asked 
she  of  her  daughter,  who,  that  night,  the  house  being 
full,  was  to  sleep  in  her  mother's  room. 

"  No  certainly,"  said  Caroline.     "Why?" 

"  Because,"  replied  her  mother,  "  I  could  only 
imagine  him  turned  over  to  Bell  Ponsonby  in  some 
little  lover's  pique.  Mind,  Lina,  what  you  are  about 
— the  Ponsonbys  are  artful,  scheming  people.  You 
really  have  less  spirit  than  any  girl  I  ever  saw!  In 
a  room  like  that,  with  the  eyes  of  everybody  upon 
you,  and  with  your  rival  at  your  side,  to  give  up 
voluntarily  to  her  the  best  man  in  the  room — the 
only  gentleman  whose  attention  conferred  any  dis- 


RENEWED  HOPE.  153 

tinction,  for  a  paltry  nameless  German,  positively 
provokes  me! — and  when  you  know  how  much  my 
heart  is  set  on  this  connexion!" 

Caroline  sat  in  her  beautiful  dress,  as  she  had  come 
out  of  the  concert-room,  with  her  hands  clasped 
together  on  her  knee,  pale  almost  as  the  satin,  and 
said  nothing. 

"Are  you  a  fool,  Lina?"  exclaimed  her  mother, 
"  or  what,  in  Heaven's  name,  is  come  to  you?" 

"  Let  me  confess  the  truth — let  me  open  my  heart 
to  you,  dearest,  dearest  mother !"  said  she,  bursting 
into  tears,  and  falling  on  her  mother's  neck. 

"  Nay,  child,  at  least  take  off  your  dress  before  we 
have  any  scenes,"  said  her  mother,  in  a  tone  of  ex- 
treme irritation ;  and,  as  she  had  dismissed  Gretchen, 
that  she  might  have  this  conversation  with  her 
daughter,  she  unhooked  her  dress,  and  hung  it  up 
for  her. 

Caroline  did  not  again  fall  on  her  mother's  neck ; 
she  clasped  her  hands  tightly  together,  and  said 
calmly,  "  I  do  not  love  Mr.  Burnett — I  hardly  eoteem 
him!"  More  she  would  have  said — she  would  have 
confessed  her  love  for  Karl  Hoffmann ;  it  was  the 
confession  she  meant  to  have  made  before,  but  her 
mother  prevented  her. 

"Child!"  exclaimed  she,  "what  sudden  folly  has 
seized  you? — Not  like  him!  you  that  have  seemed  so 
charmed  by  his  attentions — so  jealous  of  Bell  Pon- 
sonby — that  have  made  your  preference  of  him  visible 
to  everybody! — Not  love  him,  not  esteem  him,  even! 
what  in  Heaven's  name  do  you  mean? — certainly  you 
will  drive  me  mad!" 

"  Good  Heavens !"  exclaimed  Caroline,  confounded 
by  her  mother's  words — for  she  doubted  not  but  her 
mother  spoke  as  others  would  speak  also.  A  feeling 
almost  of  despair  came  ov<;r  her;  she  wanted  some 


154  RENEWED  HOPE- 

strong-minded,  high-principled  friend  to  counsel  with  ; 
she  was  hopeless  of  her  mother;  and,  clasping  her 
hands  together,  she  stood  silent. 

"  Caroline,"  said  her  mother,  hurried  into  a  confes- 
sion which  she  had  never  thought  of  voluntarily 
making,  and  saying  now  what  she  devoutly  hoped  was 
not  true — "Listen,  and  then  tell  me  whether  you  can 
conscientiously  trifle  with  the  devotions  of  Mr.  Bur- 
nett. I  am  pennyless !  I  have  lost  every  farthing  that 
I  am  worth!" 

Caroline  stared  at  her  mother  in  amazement. 

"Yes,  child!"  she  continued,  "three  years  ago,  I 
was  over-persuaded  by  Mr.  Wilkinson,  like  that  pool 
Mrs.  Abigail  Finch,  to  embark  my  money  in  an 
Australian  Land  Company.  I,  like  her.  have  lost  all 
— only,"  added  she,  with  a  bitterness  of  voice,  "I  am 
unfortunately  alive  to  learn  the  miseries  of  poverty!" 

Her  mother's  words  were  intelligible  to  Caroline, 
but  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  raving.  Mrs.  Pal- 
mer, after  looking  on  her  daughter  for  a  moment,  burst 
into  a  flood  of  tears ;  Caroline  soothed  her,  and  prayed 
for  an  explanation,  forgetting  her  own  troubles  in 
these  new  and  unlooked-for  ones. 

By  degrees  her  mother  explained  to  her  the  whole 
transaction,  excusing  herself  by  her  wish  to  create  a 
fortune  for  her  daughter.  Caroline  at  first  was  indig- 
nant against  Mr.  Wilkinson  for  allowing  her  mother 
to  be  thus  imposed  upon ;  and  then  adopted  the  wil- 
ling hope  that,  after  all,  their  surmises  might  be  unjust, 
and  their  money  safe.  She  however  besought  her 
mother  to  inquire  from  Mr.  Wilkinson  what  their 
true  prospects  were ;  which  she  promised  to  do  the 
next  morning,  before  he  left  for  Strasburg;  though, 
poor  lady,  in  her  own  mind,  she  thought  she  would  not, 
as  shewasall  alongbentuponBurnettmaking  proposals 
to  her  daughter,  before  she  ventured  on  the  subject. 


RENEWED  HOPE.  155 

"The  Wilkinsons  know  our  circumstances,  Lina," 
said  her  mother,  "  and  my  belief  is,  that  they  are  here 
purposely  for  Arthur  to  choose  you ;  I  am  sure  they 
wish  him  to  do  so — nay,  I  almost  have  it  from  Mrs. 
Wilkinson's  own  mouth.  They  are  generous  people, 
Lina,  and  knowing,  perhaps,  that  they  have  been  instru- 
mental in  my  misfortunes,  this  is  the  return  they  would 
make.  Oh,  Lina,  if  you  knew  how  I  have  watched 
you  two — how  I  have  prayed  for  this  union  to  take 
place — what  sleepless  nights  it  has  cost  me — what 
anxious  days — you  would  not  let  any  foolish  fancies 
rise  up  as  impediments*  you  must  not,  you  ought  not 
— nay,  you  shall  not,"  said  she,  increasing  in  energy 
with  every  word  she  spoke ;  "for,  if  ever  it  was  a  girl's 
duty  to  obey  her  mother,  it  is  that  you  obey  me  now ! 
Think  of  the  disgrace  of  poverty!  Oh,  Heaven!  I 
surely  could  not  survive  it!" 

There  never  was  a  merrier  breakfast-party  than  that 
which  surrounded  the  table  as  Caroline  entered  next 
morning.  All  the  Ponsonbys  were  in  such  high 
spirits,  looking  so  bright  and  unfatigued — the  Wil- 
kinsons, and  Arthur  Burnett  also.  All  laughingly 
rallied  her  on  her  looks  of  katzenjammer,  or  cats' 
grief — for  so  the  Germans  call  the  weariness  which 
succeeds  a  night  of  dissipation — which  all  said  would, 
however,  be  cured  by  a  new  scheme  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson, 
which  was,  that  they  all  should  accompany  her  hus- 
band as  far  as  Anweiler,  at  the  foot  of  the  Haardt 
mountains,  across  the  Rhine  plain,  the  first  day's  jour- 
ney to  Strasburg — explore  the  scenery  of  the  Trifels, 
the  place  of  Coeur  de  Lion's  captivity,  and  all  the 
glorious  country  thereabout,  down  to  Durkheim,  where 
is  the  Heiden  Mauer,  and  a  great  deal  to  see  besides ; 
and  thus  spend  the  time  of  Mr.  Wilkinson's  absence 
most  agreeably,  and  be  joined  by  him  at  Spires  again, 
on  his  return.     The  Ponsonbys,  of  course,  were  to  bs 


15ti  RENEWED  kt.PE. 

of  the  party,  all  except  the  colonel,  who  preferred 
returning  to  Mannheim.  Everybody  declared  it  was 
charming — even  Caroline  was  pleased,  for  she  would 
have  felt  any  change,  anything  which  removed  her 
thoughts  from  herself,  a  relief.  It  was  just  the  excur- 
sion everybody  had  wished  to  make ;  and  everybody 
said  they  were  delighted.  Mrs.  Palmer,  however, 
wished  the  Ponsonbys  were,  not  going,  because  Mr. 
Wilkinson  seemed  so  wonderfully  taken  with  Bell, 
and  Bell  really  looked  so  provokingly  happy;  and 
Mrs.  Ponsonby  wished  that  the  Palmers  were  not 
going,  because,  however  doleful  and  unhappy  Caro- 
line looked,  Mr.  Burnett  was  engrossed  by  her;  she 
began  really  to  think  there  must  be  something  serious 
in  his  attentions  to  her.  So  away  they  went  that 
splendid  autumn  day;  two  carriages  and  four — Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  Mrs.  Palmer  and  Mrs.  Ponsonby 
in  the  first,  and  the  four  young  people  in  the  second. 

The  party  stayed  to  dine  at  Landau,  and  then  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  announced  to  the  young  people,  that  they 
had  arranged  a  very  charming  scheme — quite  a  new 
kind  of  pleasure — which  they  must  enjoy  the  very 
moment  of  Mr.  Wilkinson's  return;  and  that  was  a 
musical  breakfast  at  the  Kaiser  Stuhl.  Mr.  Wilkin- 
son had  noticed  the  tower  on  the  hill,  on  leaving 
Heidelberg;  they  would  go  up  there,  and  have  a  rural 
breakfast,  and  music.  She  would  engage,  she  said, 
a  band  of  musicians,  and  take  that  poor  Madame  Von 
Holzhauser,  who  had  been  so  disappointed  in  not 
singing  at\ier  concert;  they  would  have  Von  Rosen- 
berg also,  and  Hoffmann ;  and  it  would  altogether  be 
quite  a  snug  delightful  little  affair.  Everybody  agreed 
that  it  would  be  so;  and  Mrs.  Ponsonby  declared  that 
Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  the  finest  taste  in  the  world  for 
getting  up  things  of  this  kind. 

It  was  with  the  greatest  regret  that  Karl  saw  the 


HOPE  DISAPPOINTED.  157 

tvto  carriages  drive  away,  and  understood  that  they 
were  to  he  absent  for  a  week.  He  had  intended  that 
day  to  have  opened  his  heart  to  Caroline ;  he  believed 
he  was  loved  by  her;  he  thought  that,  from  their  lit- 
tle intercourse  the  last  happy  evening,  he  had  judged 
her  harshly ;  and,  with  a  sentiment  peculiar  to  gene- 
rous minds  who  have  been  unjust,  blamed  himself 
for  his  judgment,  and  longed  to  make  the  amplest 
amends  even  for  an  unkind  thought. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HOPE    DISAPPOINTED. 

The  party  returned  from  the  mountains  delighted 
with  their  excursion,  and  impatient  for  the  breakfast 
at  the  Kaiser  Stuhl,  which  now  had  taken  entire 
possession  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  mind,  as  the  concert 
had  done  ten  days  before. 

"Well,  love,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer  to  her  daughter, 
as  they  were  alone  together  on  their  return,  "I  think 
the  Ponsonbys  must  be  convinced  by  this  time,  that 
Arthur  Burnett  has  no  thoughts  of  Bell.  I  never  was 
better  pleased  in  my  life ;  I  only  wish  you  would 
look  a  little  more  cheerful,  although  I  must  confess 
that  that  air  of  melancholy  suits  you  admirably!" 

Caroline  sighed,  and  said  she  felt  sure  she  was  doing 
wrong,  but  that  she  had  not  strength  to  do  right. 
Her  mother  did  not  understand  what  she  meant,  nor 
did  she  ask  her  to  explain  herself,  and  she  continued. 
"  I  am  like  some  one  before  whom  two  roads  lay — the 
one  right,  the  other  wrong;  difficulties,  great,  untold 
difficulties,  lay  at  the  entrance  of  the  right  road;  I 
have  shrunk  from  encountering  them ;  I  have  taken 
the  other,  though  I  know  it  to  be  wrong,  as  well  as  I 

H 


158  HOPE  DISAPPOINTED. 

know  darkness  from  light;  and,  please  God  that  I 
may  only  not  know  the  misery  my  choice  has  occa- 
sioned another !  I  must  be  content:  I  have  shut  my 
eyes  and  gone  wilfully  wrong!  Oh  how  this  thought 
haunts  me  day  and  night!" 

"Child!  Lina,  de'ar!"  exclaimed  her  mother, 

"  I  have  made  up  my  mind,"  continued  she,.  "  quite, 
quite;  and,  come  what  will,  I  will  bear  it!"  and,  so 
saying,  she  threw  herself  on  the  bed  and  wept.  She 
did  not  tell  her  mother  what  she  knew,  however, 
would  give  her  pleasure,  that  she*had  indeed  accepted 
Arthur  Burnett's  addresses.  Gretchen  came  uo  say 
that  Mrs.  Hoffmann  had  called  on  them,  and  that,  as 
Mrs.  Wilkinson  was  out,  she  wished  to  see  her,  but 
would  detain  her  only  a  few  minutes.  Mrs.  Palmer 
went  out  to  her. 

Good  Mrs.  Hoffmann !  she  was  come  on  an  errand 
of  her  son's.  Her  son  and  his  friend,  she  said,  were 
setting  off  either  on  the  morrow  or  the  day  after,  and, 
as  Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  often  expressed  a  wish  for  tea 
in  the  castle  gardens,  she  wished  to  invite  them  to 
coffee  there  that  afternoon.  Nothing  could  be  more 
delightful  than  the  afternoons  then  were ;  the  sunsets 
too  were  so  fine;  and  there  was  a  moon  now,  which 
strangers  almost  admired  as  much  as  the  gardens ;  and 
her  son,  she  said,  proposed  also  a  stroll  on  the  hills 
afterwards,  if  it  were  agreeable  to  the  young  people : 
there  were  some  walks  on  the  hills  which  he  thought 
they  had  not  seen. 

Mrs.  Palmer,  with  the  utmost  politeness — for  she 
was  in  good  humour  with  all  the  world — said  she  would 
nention  it  to  Mrs.  Wilkinson ;  but  she  knew  not  what 
to  say,  as  they  themselves  proposed  breakfasting  at 
the  Kaiser  Stuhl  the  next  morning.  A  musical 
breakfast  it  was  to  be;  music  in  the  open  air  was 
always  charming,  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson  got  up  those 


HOPE   DISAPPOINTED.  1 .09 

things  so  well;  she  was  then  gone  out  ahoiit  it,  and 
the  Ponsonbys  also,  most  likely,  as  nobody  was  at 
home;  that  she  expected  an  invitation  had  already 
been  sent  to  Mr.  Hoffmann,  and  Mr.  Von  Rosenberg 
also;  but  as  it  had  not,  she  would  venture  to  give  it 
now,  and  to  Mrs.  Hoffmann  also,  whose  company  she 
Was  sure  would  give  them  all  pleasure.  Mrs.  Hoff- 
mann said  that,  for  herself,  she  must  quite  decline ;  it 
was  too  great  an  undertaking  for  her.  "  But  you  do 
not  decline,  I  hope,  foryour  son,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer; 
"though,  added  she,  "I  doubt  he  might  find  some 
of  the  young  people  rather  too  much  occupied  with 
each  other  to  be  verygopd  company."      t 

"May  1  inquire,  then,"  said  Mrs. Hoffmann,  "if  the 
reports  we  hear  of  your  daughter  being  promised  to 
Mr.  Burnett  are  true?" 

"  Certainly  they  are  true,"  said  Mrs.  Palmer,  who 
made  herself  quite  easy  on  the  subject  now.  "  But, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  remember  one  thing — an 
engagement  of  this  kind  is  not  publicly  bruited  abroad 
among  the  English,  as  among  the  Germans." 

A  change  passed  over  Mrs.  Hoffmann's  counte- 
nance, and  she  rose  suddenly  to  depart.  Mrs.  Palmer 
smiled  to  herself,  for  she  thought  she  was  displeased 
by  what  she  had  said  of  German  betrothals. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  returned  just  before  dinner.  She 
had  put  everything,  she  said,  in  the  right  train.  Arthur 
was  gone  about  the  carriages  and  horses ;  she  ex- 
pected him  back  every  moment.  He  came,  and  his 
part  of  the  commission  was  right  also.  She  had 
issued,  she  said,  a  general  order  about  provisions; 
and  that,  having  met  Mr.  Hoffmann  and  Von  Rosen- 
berg, she  had  engaged  them ;  that  she  never  saw 
anybody  more  zealous  than  they  were;  that  she  was 
quite  charmed  with  them;  they  had  been  with  her  to 
the  musicians,  and  arranged  with  them  much  better 


160  HOPE  DISAPPOINTED. 

than  she  could.  Poor  Mrs.  Holzhauser,  however, 
made  some  little  demur;  her  husband  was  ill  again; 
she  had  lessons  to  give,  and  the  mornings  were  cold. 
"  However,"  said  she,  "  as  I  should  like  to  have  her 
this  time — for  her  voice  will  be  wanted — I  have 
offered  her  such  a  sum  as  I  think  she  will  not  resist. 
'All  so  far  has  gone  right,  but  now  comes  the  other 
side  of  the  question:  the  wind  has  changed,  and 
people  foretell  rain;  and  that  child  that  has  been 
ridden  over  is  so  much  worse,  that  they  say  he  must 
have  his  leg  taken  off.  Oh,  it  is  quite  shocking!  I 
never  shall  forgive  you,  Arthur.  I  heaid  it  talked  of 
in  a  shop,  and  it  made  me  quite  ill.  I  have  sent 
Rosalie  to  inquire  after  him,  and  to  offer  them  money, 
or  wine,  or  anything  else  that  we  can  give.  I  expect 
there  will  be  a  pension  there,  if  nothing  worse!" 

Whilst  they  were  sitting  over  their  dessert,  a  note 
was  handed  to  Caroline.  Her  colour  changed  as  she 
glanced  at  its  contents.  Her  mother,  thinking  it  was 
a  dressmaker's  bill,  and  that  she  was  annoyed,  per- 
haps, at  its  amount,  because  her  own  finances  were 
drained,  told  her  where  to  find  the  keys  of  her 
desk,  and  if  she  wanted  a  few  florins  she  might  take 
them.  Caroline  hastened  to  her  own  room,  and  read 
again,  with  a  heart  beating  violently,  the  words  she  had 
glanced  over  before  : — 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  tell  me,  are  you  irdeed  the  promised 
bride  of  Mr.  Burnett?  Deal  candidly  with  me.  I  have  lived  on 
uncertainties  and  hopes  too  long.  I  had  given  up  hope  till  that 
evening  of  the  concert.  Why  did  you  awake  it  again  ?  But  I  will 
not  reproach  you.  May  you  never  know  the  misery  I  must 
endure ! 

"  If  what  I  am  told  be  true,  I  ask  not  for  an  answer.  It  will 
be  hard  to  bear,  but,  for  my  mother's  sake,  I  will  bear  it.  One 
request  only  I  make  to  you — make  my  excuses  to  Mrs.  Wilkin- 
son, and  Von  Rosenberg's  also.  We  shall  leave  this  place  to« 
night.— K.  H." 


HOPE  DISAPPOINTED.  161 

Poor  Caroline!  she  stood  like  one  stuplfied,  without 
a  tear  in  her  eye,  and  the  open  letter  in  her  hand.  She 
stood  for  a  long  time,  as  if  pressed  down  with  a  blank 
sense  of  misery  and  error.  It  was  too  late  to 
retrieve  now,  even  if  she  knew  how.  "  I  forsesaw 
something  of  this,"  said  she,  "  but  I  said  I  would 
shut  my  eyes,  and  go  wilfully  wrong;"  and,  falling 
down  on  her  knees,  though  she  uttered  not  one  word 
of  prayer,  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  wept. 
With  even  thoughts  of  prayer  come  a  calming  in- 
fluence ;  and  Caroline  woke  up,  as  it  were,  from  that 
stupor  of  anguish.  "  Some  way  or  other,"  said  she, 
"  light  will  break  in ;  this  tempesting  of.  mind,  this 
self-abhorrence,  this  dark  uncertainty,  cannot  indure 
for  ever."  Whilst  she  thus  thought,  the  regular 
pacing  of  footsteps  in  the  room  above  caught  her 
attention.  "  It  is  poor  Karl"  thought  she;  "  he  awaits 
my  answer,  or  he  knows  now  certainly  that  none 
will  come !"  She  looked  at  her  watch,  as  if  to  ques- 
tion how  long  it  was  since  the  note  came ;  but  she  had 
not  looked  at  it  then  ;  she  knew  nothing  of  time.  "  Oh 
my  God!"  exclaimed  she,  clasping  her  hands  on  her 
forehead,  "  this  pacing  to  and  fro  will  drive  me 
mad!  •  I  have  made  him  wretched,  without  the  pos- 
sibility of  making  another  happy!"  She  rose  from 
ner  knees,  and,  with  a  sense  of  misery  which  had  no 
words,  threw  herself  on  her  bed. 

That  night  Gretchen  was  not  to  be  found  when  she 
was  wanted.  At  length  she  made  her  appearance, 
and,  in  answer  to  the  questions  of  her  absence,  said 
she  had  only  been  for  a  minute  or  two  with  Mrs. 
Hoffmann's  Bena;  that  Mr.  Karl  and  Mr.  Von 
Rosenberg  were  gone  off  all  in  a  hurry  that  evening, 
and  she  had  just  run  into  Bena's  kitchen,  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  her,  for  that  Mrs.  Hoffmann  was  very 
poorly  herself,  and  was  gone  to  bed.     Caroline  said 


162  HOPE  DISAPPOINTED. 

her  head  ached,  and  that  she  was  fatigued  and  would 
go  to  rest;  that  Gretchen  must  offer  apologies  in  the 
drawing-room  for  her,  and  must  tell  Mrs.  Wilkinson 
also,  that  Mr.  Hoffmann  and  his  friend  were  suddenly 
gone,  and  hegged  her  to  excuse  them  on  the  morrow. 

Next  morning  was  damp  and  dull.  "  Only  one  of 
those  regular  autumn  mornings,  which  turn  out,  the 
most  beautiful  of  days,"  said  everybody;  and,  "  Did 
I  not  say  so?"  and  "Did  I  not  prophesy  so?"  asked 
everybody  exultingly,  at  ten  o'clock,  when  the  sun 
looked  through  the  misty  clouds,  and  seemed  half 
disposed  to  disperse  them.  It  is  true  that  they  were 
to  have  been  at  the  Kaiser  Stuhl  by  half-past  ten; 
the  musicians,  perhaps,  might  be  on  their  way  there; 
but  that  was  of  no  consequence :  the  eatables  and  ser- 
vants also  had  long  been  gone,  and,  now  that  all  looked 
promising,  they  would  lose  no  time  in  setting  out; 
and,  spite  of  Mr.  Hoffmann  and  Von  Rosenberg  setting 
off  in  that  unhandsome  way,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  said 
they  would  all  enjoy  themselves. 

The  carriages  were  brought  to  the  door,  and  Ca- 
roline vainly  besought  them  to  let  her  stay  at  home, 
on  the  plea  of  headache  and  former  fatigue ;  but  O 
no!  who  could  go  without  her?  Arthur  was  peremp- 
tory; he  would  stay  if  she  did;  so  he  took  his  seat 
beside  her,  and  away  they  drove. 

As  they  approached  the  top  of  the  hills,  the  air 
began  to  feel  damp  and  raw.  Mrs.  Wilkinson  looked 
at  her  watch ;  it  actually  was  nearly  twelve ;  had  they 
been,  indeed,  so  long?  and  should  they  at  last  have 
rain?  But,  however,  they  must  not  be  faint-hearted: 
everything  was  ready;  everybody  was  waiting  for 
them ;  and,  as  they  came  in  sight,  a  peal  of  music 
burst  forth  to  welcome  them.  There  was  something 
animating  in  it  on  the  wild  hill-top,  although  the  wind 
did  blow  coldly,  and  the  troops  of  half- wild,   half- 


HOPE   DISAPPOINTED.      .  168 

savage-looking  children,  which  had  come  up  not  only 
from  Gaiberg,  the  Kohl-hof,  and  all  regions  about, 
looked  starved;  yet  there  was  something  quite  in- 
spiriting in  that  music,  and  in  the  servants  bustling 
about,  and  the  shed  covered  with  green  boughs,  like 
a  summer  lodge  in  the  wilderness  wreathed  with 
flowers,  under  which  the  repast  was  set  out. 

"  And  where  is  Mrs.  Von  Holzhauser  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  when  they  alighted,  looking  round  for  her 
in  vain.  A  servant  said  that  she  had  left  a  message, 
and  was  gone.  "  She  was  there  at  ten  o'clock,"  he 
said;  "  that  the  damp  of  the  hills  had  taken  hold  of 
her;  her  voice  was  gone;  she  could  not  speak  above  a 
whisper;  she  seemed  very  much  cut  down,  and  he  won- 
dered they  had  not  met  her."  Mr.  Wilkinson  proposed 
that  they  should  ascend  the  tower,  and  see  the  view; 
the  man  was  there  with  his  telescope.  Mrs.  Wilkinson 
said  they  would  have  some  refreshment  first;  so  all 
seated  themselves  at  the  table.  It  was  really  cold, 
and  nobody  looked  merry,  although  the  musicians 
played  Strauss's  waltzes  and  gallopades  with  all 
their  might.  It  was  a  sumptuous  breakfast,  or  rather 
luncheon,  and,  spite  of  the  dreariness,  ?mple  justice 
was  done  to  it;  the  gentlemen  laughed  loudly,  and 
the  ladies  laughed  too ;  the  servants  bustled  about, 
the  music  played,  the  wild-looking  children  were 
regaled  with  far  more  than  fragments;  and  so  an  hour 
went  by,  and  by  that  time  a  thick,  drizzling  rain  had 
set  in,  which  left  not,  to  the  most  sanguine,  the 
remotest  hope  of  a  change. 

It  was,  after  all,  the  dullest  party,  the  most  complete 
failure  of  a  pleasure  party,  that  ever  met  at  the  foot  of 
the  Kaiser  Stuhl.  To  ascend  this  imperial  chair  was 
now  quite  out  of  the  question  ;  the  poor  keeper  of  the 
tower  stood  at  the  door,  balancing  his  telescope  on 
his  arm,  but  he  did  not  even  ask  them  to  use  it. 


164  HOPE   DISAPPOINTED. 

At  three  o'clock  the  carriages  were  drawn  up  again 
for  their  return;  the  drenched  and  discomfited  mu- 
sicians had  gone  half-an-hour  before ;  and,  leaving 
the  fragments  of  the  feast  as  booty  to  the  keeper  of 
the  tower  and  his  children,  they  took  their  seats  as 
they  came,  and  in  rain,  which  threatened  now  to  be  a 
deluge,  began  to  descend,  everybody  silent  and  out 
of  humour.  After  they  had  dined,  the  Ponsonbys 
returned  home,  and,  tired  and  dispirited,  everybody 
retired  early  to  their  own  rooms. 

The  next  morning,  Mademoiselle  Rosalie  brought 
a  message  to  Caroline.  Mr.  Wilkinson  and  Mr.  Bur- 
nett were  engaged  together  on  business;  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson took  breakfast  in  her  own  room — perhaps  Miss 
Palmer  would  do  the  same.  There  seemed  nothing 
extraordinary  in  all  this;  it  was  natural  they  should 
wish  to  have  some  privacy,  who  had  been  so  long 
separated ;  but  she  felt  now,  as  indeed  she  had  often 
done  before,  the  inconvenience  of  this  union  of  house- 
holds. She  was  a  prisoner  in  her  own  chamber,  where 
she  had  neither  books,  nor  work,  nor  music;  she 
could  not  sit  with  her  mother,  who  never  rose  till 
late.  She  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  therefore,  and 
went  to  inquire,  not  only  after  the  lame  Peter,  but 
after  poor  Madame  Von  Holzhauser  also. 

Peter  had  been  removed  to  the  hospital,  she  found, 
for  some  days ;  he  was  now  better,  said  the  old  man, 
who  was  alone  in  the  house;  his  daughter,  he  said, 
was  gone  to  the  hospital  with  something  for  Peter. 
It  was  a  blessing  he  might  keep  his  limb;  it  would 
have  been  the  death  of  him,  so  weakly  as  he  was,  to 
lose  it.  "  Bena  tells  me,"  said  the  old  man,  "  that,  you 
all  live  in  the  same  house;  you  know  Mr.  Karl,  then- 
he's  gone!  It's  much  he  did  not  come  to  say  good- 
by;  but  he  knew  that  our  good  wishes  went  with 
him,  go  where  he  would !  I  remember  him,"  continued 


V 
HOPE  DISAPPOINTED.  165 

he,  "when  he  was  a  little  hoy;  I  gave  him  his  first 
music  lessons — I  was  a  music-master  then.  Dear 
Heaven !  what  a  loss  it  was  to  me  when  I  could  not 
play  on  my  piano !  I  wish  it  had  r  leased  God  to 
have  given  the  poor  Peter  an  ear  for  music ! — And  so 
Mr.  Karl  is  gone!  he  is  a  good  heart — he  is -a  right 
good  heart!"  repeated  the  old  man,  in  his  weak,  husky 
voice.  Caroline  could  hear  it  no  longer:  she  wiped 
away  her  tears,  and  bade  him  good  day. 

In  reply  to  her  knock  at  Madame  Von  Holzhuuser's 
door,  she  was  bade  to  enter  in  a  voice  the  very  oppo- 
site of  the  old  man's — so  harsh,  so  strong,  so  repul- 
sive. It  was  Mr.  Von  Holzhauser  himself,  who, 
wrapped  in  a  dirty  cotton  schlafrock,  with  a  greasy 
smoking-cap  on  his  head,  and  his  feet  thrust  into  old 
faded  needle-worked  slippers,  was  puffing  forth,  from 
a  coarse  pipe,  clouds  of  ill-scented  tobacco.  Caroline 
started  back  at  the  vision  which  thus  presented  itself 
as  she  entered  the  room :  she  thought  she  had  made 
a  mistake,  and  she  said  so.  ' 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  stout  smoker,  who  was  evi- 
dently in  ill  humour,  "this  was  Madame  Von  Holz- 
hauser's  ;  that  she  had  been  such  a  fool  the  day  before 
as  to  go  up  to  the  Kaiser  Stuhl  with  some  English 
people,  who  had  more  money  than  sense,  and  that  she 
had  lost  her  voice ;  and,  now  that  Hoffmann  was  gone, 
who  had  been  such  a  friend  to  her,  what  was  she  to 
do?  He  was  gone  off  at  last  in  such  a  hurry,  he  had 
forgotten  to  give  her  the  recipe  which  did  her  so  much 
good;  and  how  could  she  afford  to  go  to  Dr. ?" 

The  next  moment  a  chamber  door  opened,  and 
the  poor  lady  herself,  wrapped  in  a  flannel  dressing- 
gown,  and  with  flannels  on  her  throat  and  head 
came  softly  and  timidly  forth. 

"  May  I  sit  down  with  you  for  two  minutes  in  youi 
chamber?"  asked  Caroline. 


166  HOPE  DISAPPOINTED. 

Madame  Von  Holzhauser  assented,  and  the  door 
was  closed  against  the  unamiable  occupant  of  the  first 
room.  The  moment  they  were  alone  she  burst  into 
tears.  Caroline  said  everything  to  soothe  her  and 
give  her  hope;  to  all  the  poor  woman  shook  her  head, 
or  spoke  only  what  was  inaudible.  What  could  Caro- 
line do  more?  she  could  do  nothing — nothing  effectual 
at  least:  she  ordered  a  quantity  of  manuscript  music; 
said  she  would  call  sometimes ;  expressed  the  kindest 
sympathy  and  wishes,  and  departed  with  a  heavier 
heart  even  than  she  had  come. 

Whilst  she  was  taking  off  her  bonnet  in  her  own 
room,  she  heard  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Wilidn- 
son  entered :  her  manner  was  constrained  and  peculiar : 
she  sate  down,  and  asked  if  she  could  have  some  pri- 
vate conversation  with  her. 

"Certainly,"  said  Caroline,  her  heart  beating  vio- 
lently, for  Mrs.  Wilkinson's  manner  terrified  her.     * 

"My  dear  Caroline,"  said  she,  "it  grieves  me  more 
than  I  can  express,  or  than  you  can  conceive — it  is 
most  painful,  I  assure  you."  The  beating  of  Caro- 
line's heart  sounded  into  her  brain,  but  she  said 
nothing ;  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  wanting  a  reply  to  help 
her  onward,  yet  finding  none,  proceeded. 

"I  do  not  know,  my  dear  girl,  how  to  tell  you — but 
perhaps  your  mother  may  have  mentioned  it."  Caro- 
line clasped  her  hands  and  leant  earnestly  forward. 
"  Nay,  do  not-  look  in  that  way,"  said  she,  or  how 
can  I  tell  you?  Your  poor  dear  mother  embarked, 
some  years  ago,  her  fortune  in  a  foreign  Land  Company 
— it  has  been  unsuccessful." 

"My  dear,  dear  mother!"  exclaimed  Caroline, 
throwing  herself  into  a  chair,  and  bursting  into  tears. 

"  It  is  a  most  unhappy  affair,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson ; 
"  but  who  would  have  thought  of  embarking  their  aU 
in  such  a  scheme  ?" 


ft 
HOPE  DISAPPOINTED.  1G7 

"Oh!  why,"  said  Caroline,  "did  Mr.  Wilkinson 
allow  it  ?  He  should  not,  indeed — indeed  he  should 
not;  he  should  have  discouraged  it — he  should  have 
prevented  it — he  ought  to  have  done  so.  Pardon 
me,  Mrs.  Wilkinson ;  hut  he,  who  knew  so  much  of 
all  money  schemes,  ought  to  have  shown  her  how 
such  a*  this  Land  Company,  whoever  may  he  the 
originators  or  supporters  of  them,  are  little  hetter  than 
public  robbers.  Her  all!  Oh  my  God!  How  can 
she  bear  poverty!" 

"  "Who  could  have  imagined  it  her  all?"  asked  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  half  vexed  at  Caroline's  reproach  on  her 
husband.  "  He  could  not  have  imagined  that  she — 
that  any  one — would  have  risked  their  all  thus." 

"  My  poor  mother  has  feared  this,"  said  Caroline ; 
"these  anxieties  have  preyed  upon  her  health,  and 
this  blow  will  kill  her,  or  deprive  her  of  reason !" 

"I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  "I  never  was 
so  shocked,  so  grieved,  so  miserable  in  all  my  life! 
I  did  not  dare  to  go  to  her;  it  is  the  most  distressing 
thing  I  ever  knew.  But  bless  me,  Lina,  who  would 
have  thought  that  your  mother,  who  always  made 
such  a  handsome  appearance,  and  has  educated  you 
so  well,  was  only  worth  six  thousand  pounds? — how 
did  she  manage?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Wilkinson,"  said  Caroline,  "  this  has 
been  unkind  indeed,  to  persuade  her  to  risk  her  all — 
her  all,  which  was  but  so  little — that  little,  which  she 
made  go  so  far!" 

"  You  are  sure  to  feel  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  in 
a  voice  which  was  meant  to  be  full  of  charity ;  "  I 
can  forgive  you  being  unjust;  but,  my  dear  girl,  you 
nust  remember  that  your  poor  mother,  and  nobody 
else,  is  to  blame.  It  is  just  as  if  she  had  taken  her 
money  to  the  gaming-table :  people  that  do  so,  must 
abide  the  consequences.     Why  did  she  not  tell  Wil- 


108  HOPE  DISAPPOINTED. 

kinson  that  six  thousand  pounds  was  all  she  had  in 
the  world?" 

"  I  must  go  to  my  mother  now,"  said  Caroline, 
rising. 

"  Yet  a  moment,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkinson ;  "  a  few 
more  words  you  must  allow  me.  Caroline  took  her 
seat  again,  and  she  continued.  "  I  am  sure,  dear 
Lina,  I  am  distressed  to  be  the  bearer  of  unpleasant 
tidings,  or  to  have  to  communicate  what  must  be 
painful  for  you  to  hear;  but  I  have  a  duty  to  perform, 
which,  however  distressing,  I  must  not  -hrink  from. 
You  knew,  Caroline,  though  we  did  not,  what  were 
your  circumstances — your  prospects  in  life.  You  must 
have  known  this,  and  you  should  not  have  formed 
any  connexion  with  Arthur,  and  have  kept  it  secret 
thus." 

"  Mr.  Burnett,"  said  Caroline,  looking  both  hurt 
and  offended,  "  was  old  enough  to  choose  for  himself, 
and  was,  as  I  understood,  independent  of  any  person 
— even  of  a  guardian." 

"  Unquestionably  so,"  replied  Mrs.  "Wilkinson; 
"he  is  very  rich,  but  Mr.  Wilkinson,  fiom  whom  you 
know  he  has  great  expectations,  has  views  of  his  own 
for  him.  I  am  very  sorry,  my  dear  Lina,"  said  she, 
in  the  kindest  tone,  "  for  I  never  met  with  a  girl  that 
I  admired  and  loved  so  much  as  you;  but  I  must 
confess  that  I  wish  you  had  mentioned  it  to  me." 

"  I  have  not  mentioned  it  even  to  my  own  mother," 
said  Caroline. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  replied  Mrs.  Wilkinson ; 
"  and  let  me  beseech  of  you,  dear  girl,  not  to  do  it. 
And  now,  Lina,  I  appeal  to  you — to  your  own  good 
sense  and  knowledge  of  what  is  customary  in  society. 
I  am  grieved  to  hurt  your  feelings,  by  speaking  so 
plainly;  but  knowing  no*w,  I  say,  that  you  must 
become  dependent,  one  way  or  another,  should  you 


HOPE  DISAPPOINTED.  169 

have  accepted  Arthur's  addresses,  without  his  ob- 
taining his  uncle's  sanction,  from  whom,  you  know, 
he  has  such  expectations  ?" 

"  I  told  him,"  said  Caroline,  at  the  time  he  made 
fiis  declaration,  "  how  doubtful  our  circumstances  were 
— that  I  was  probably  almost  penniless;  he  will  not 
deny  that.  I  believed  you  and  Mr.  Wilkinson  capable 
of  an  act  of  generosity;  I  imagined  you  were  willing 
to  repay  my  mother's  losses  by  this  connexion :  I  was 
mistaken." 

"Good  Heavens!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  in 
a  tone  that  seemed  to  express  that  the  idea  was  pre- 
posterous ;  "  tben  you  know,  love,  I  must  speak  plain, 
painful  as  it  is,"  said  she,  assuming  at  once  her  most 
amiable  manner,  as  if  to  cover  the  unkindness  of  her 
remarks;  "  if  you  had  but  connexions  of  influence, 
the  want  of  money  would  go  for  nothing;  family  con- 
nexions, you  know  dear,  are  often  better  than  fortune. 
Mr.  Wilkinson — I  am  ashamed  to  say  it — is  very 
ambitious." 

"  I  understand  you,  then,"  said  Caroline  :  "  you  wish 
me  to  break  off  the  connexion." 

"  I  know  you  to  be  high-minded  and  reasonable," 
returned  she,  "  and  capable  of  the  most  generous  and 
disinterested  actions ;  I  love  you  so  well,  that  I  would: 
spare  you  all  unpleasantness— Wilkinson  is  decided 
about  it.  I  put  it  to  your  generosity ;  release  Arthur 
at  once,  and  spare  him  any  breach  with  his  uncle. 
Mr.  Wilkinson  believes — I  will  be  candid  with  you, 
Lina — that  Arthur  has  been  inveigled  into  this  con- 
nexion ;  he  has  had  it  from  the  Ponsonbys,  I  know; 
J  am  sure  of  it — they  have  been  jealous  all  along 
and  have  said,  I  doubt  not,  very  unhandsome  things. 
But  pray  do  not  let  it  annoy  you,"  said  she,  seeing 
the  colour  mount  to  Caroline's  brow;  for,  poor  girl, 
she  remembered,  with  shame,  many  little  arts  of  her 

15 


170  HOPE  DISAPPOINTED. 

own,  and  many  of  her  mother's  manoeuvres,  to  mortify 
Bell,  if  not  to  attract  Burnett.  "  I  know  how  much 
I  ask  from  you,"  continued  she ;  "  But  Caroline,  you 
are  generous  and  disinterested;  and,  if  you  have  any 
regard  for  poor  Arthur,  and  would  spare  him  a  rupture 
with  his  uncle — and  Wilkinson,  when  he  is  once 
offended,  never  forgives — let  the  engagement  be  broken 
by  your  own  wish;  as  a  woman,  I  counsel  you  Caroline, 
it  is  far  better  you  should  do  it  than  he." 

"  Let  Mr.  Burnett,"  said  Caroline  haughtily,  of- 
fended by  the  heartless  pride  of  these  people,  "  ask 
me  himself  to  redeem  him  from  this  engagement,  and 
it  shall  be  done.  God  knows,"  said  she,  "  how  en- 
tirely I  acted  against  my  own  conscience  in  accepting 
him ;  but  I  have  accepted  him  :  it  is  the  sordid  spirit 
of  worldly  pride  which  makes  you  ashamed  of  our 
engagement ;  if  it  be  so,  let  him  ask  me  to  release  him, 
and  1  will  do  it !  And  now  have  I  heard  all  you  have 
to  say ;  for  it  is  time  that  my  poor  mother  was  un- 
deceived as  to  the  friends  in  whom  she  has  so  long 
and  so  blindly  confided." 

"  Really,  Caroline!"    exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilkinson. 

Caroline  paused  a  moment,  and  then  asked  again 
if  Mrs.  Wilkinson  had  anything  more  to  say.  She 
coldly  replied  no ;  and  they  left  the  room  together. 

When  Caroline  entered,  her  mother  was  looking 
over  some  papers  which  Mr.  Wilkinson  had  sent  in — 
a  hasty  statement  of  the  affairs  of  the  Australian  Land 
Company.  He  wished,  a  note  said  which  accom- 
panied them,  to  have  an  interview  with  her  some  time- 
in  the  course  of  the  next  day. 

"  I  can  neither  make  head  nor  tail  of  these  accounts 
which  Mr.  Wilkinson  has  sent,"  said  she;  "  frightful 
sums  of  money  seem  to  have  gone  out ;  but,  Heaven 
help  me !  as  far  as  I  can  understand  them,  there  seeins 
to  be  none  coming  back!" 


171 
CHAPTER   XIV. 

A  RETROSPECT. 

We  must  anvance  on  for  four  months,  and,  on  one 
cold,  intensely  cold  afternoon  in  January,  look  into 
a  small,  neat,  warm  room  in  a  third  story  in  the 
Neckar  Strasse,  or  Neckar  Street,  Stuttgart;  and  there 
we  shall  find  poor  Mrs.  Palmer  reclining  on  the  sofa, 
wrapped,  as  when  we  first  saw  her,  in  large  shawls. 
The  tea-things  were  placed  upon  the  table,  and  Bena, 
Mrs.  Hoffmann's  little  maid,  had  just  brought  in  the 
lighted  lamp. 

"  The  Fraulein  is  not  yet  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Palmer,  as  Bena  set  the  lamp  on  the  table. 

"  She  comes  this  moment,"  replied  she ;  and,  as 
those  words  were  spoken,  Caroline  in  her  warm 
winter  bonnet  and  shawl  entered. 

<:  It  is  very  cold !  very  cold  indeed  !  "  said  she. 

"  Let  Bena  take  your  things,  dear,"  said  her  mother. 

The  kind  little  Bena  placed  the  warm  slippers 
before  her  young  mistress,  unlaced  her  boots,  and 
carried  away  the  bonnet  and  shawl,  with  a  smiling, 
happy  countenance.  The  mother  and  daughter  placed 
themselves  at  the  tea-table. 

"  How  much  better  you  look  to-night,  mamma  !'' 
said  Caroline. 

"  I  am  better,  dear,"  replied  she ;  "  and  now  you 
must  tell  me,  as  you  have  so  long  promised,  the  whole 
history  of  all  those  horrid  affairs,  in  which  I  was  too 
ill  to  take  part,  as  I  ought  to  have  done." 

"  I  think  you  can  bear  to  hear  it  now,"  said  her 
daughter;  "but  you  must  spare  my  going  into  detail, 
for  it  is  too  painful  for  me  to  dwell  upon.  You 
remember,"  said  she,  after  a  pause  of  a  few  moments, 
"  that   terrible  morning   when   Mr.    Burnett's   note 


172  A  RETROSPECT. v 

name  in,  and  his  uncle  followed  to  second  it : — oh 
Heavens  !  what  a  dreadful  morning  it  was !  I  did  not 
think  then,  that  worldly  pride  could  have  been  so 
undisguised ! " 

•'  Yes  indeed,"  replied  Mrs.  Palmer,  "  I  remember 
it;  and  that  evening  it  was  when  I  was  taken  so  ill. 
I  remember  what  seemed  to  me  the  roar  of  thunder, 
and  they  said  it  was  the  Wilkinsons'  carriages  driving 
away." 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Wilkinson!"  said  Caroline,  "  she  wrote 
to  me  from  Mannheim,  where  and  at  Baden-Baden, 
on  account  of  the  lame  Peter's  accident,  they  were 
compelled  to  remain  some  weeks,  till  a  passport  could 
be  granted  to  Mr.  Burnett;  and  then  he  bought  his 
liberty  for  a  hundred  pounds — twelve  hundred  florins. 
It  was,  as  Mrs.  Wilkinson  would  have  said,  a  good 
thing  for  him  that  he  was  ridden  over.  But  I  was  going 
to  tell  you,  that  she  wrote  to  me  from  Mannheim : 
the  letter  certainly  was  kind,  and  I  am  sure  her  in- 
tention in  sending  it  was  so.  She  had  heard  of  your 
illness,  and  offered  me  whatever  money  I  needed,  not 
as  a  loan,  but  as  a  gift;  she  offered  to  get  me  a  situa- 
tion in  London — in  fact  she  did  all  she  could  do.  The 
letter  enclosed  two  fifty  pound  bills.  Oh  how  sorely 
tempted  was  I  to  take  them!  I  knew  not  what  to  do! 
God  help  me ! — I  had'  that  twenty  pounds  to  pay  in 
Mannheim,  for  what  I  had  so  foolishly  bought  for  the 
grand  duchess's  ball ;  there  were  dressmakers'  bills, 
and  bonnet-makers'  bills,  and  bills  for  many  a  folly 
which  I  had  been  led  into,  by  a  spirit  of  rivalry  and 
expense,  whilst  the  Wilkinsons  and  Bell  Ponsonby 
were  here.  I  wished  the  money  had  been  offered  by 
any  one  but  her!" 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  her  mother,  "  that  and  much 
more  you  might  have  taken  with  an  easy  conscience: 
my  money  went  to  enrich,   I   make  no  doubt,  Mr 


A  RETROSPECT.  173 

Wilkinson  and  such  as  he,  with  their  wicked  Land 
Companies !  " 

"  I  reasoned  so,"  said  Caroline,  "  but  I  could  not 
bear  to  receive  what  was  given  as  a  favour  in  our 
poverty.  I  returned  it  to  her;  I  said  that  we  could 
not  receive  alms  from  any  one;  that  I  would  maintain 
both  you  and  myself  honourably  and  independently; 
and  so  I  will!"  said  she,  a  glow  of  honest  pride 
lighting  up  her  countenance.  "No,  my  dear  mother, 
I  thank  Heaven  that  we  need  not  live  by  charity  ! — 
I  sent  the  bills  back,"  continued  she,  "  and  took  the 
diamond  ring  and  ear-rings  to  Mannheim,  and  offered 
them  to  a  jeweller  there;  for  with  these  I  said  I  will 
discharge  all  my  debts.  Good  Heavens !  I  stood  in 
the  jewelkr's  shop  bargaining  about  these  things,  at 
the  very  moment  people  were  all  going  to  the  grand 
duchess's  ball — to  that  very  ball  to  which  we  were  to 
have  gone,  and  at  which  I  was  to  have  worn  those  very 
jewels  ;  I  saw  the  Wilkinsons'  carriage  drive  past — 
they  were  going  there ! 

"  The  jeweller  confessed  them  to  be  of  considerable 
value ;  he  would  not  purchase  them  himself,  he  said, 
but  he  offered  to  present  them  at  the  palace,  as,  pro- 
bably, they  would  be  purchased  by  the  grand  duchess, 
or  one  of  her  daughters.  In  three  weeks  I  heard 
from  him;  they  were  sold,  I  believe,  to  some  lady  in 
the  train  of  the  Empress  of  Russia;  perhaps  that  ring 
might  find  its  way  back  to  that  very  prince  from  whom 
Mr.  Wilkinson  received  it.  I  paid  the  jeweller  his  com- 
mission, and  received  nearly  a  hundred  pounds;  and 
that  made  me  rich  indeed.  I  went  then  to  pay  the 
debts  I  owed — ^n  the  first  place,  the  twenty  pounds:-— 
it  was  already  paid!  I  was  astonished,  and  inquired 
by  whom '(  By  the  lady,  I  was  told,  who  was  with  me 
when  I  made  the  purchases — the  rich  English  lady 
who  had  just  left  for  Baden-Baden.     I  found  it  the 


174  A  RETROSPECT. 

same  at  the  milliner's,  and  at  every  shop  where  we  had 
gone  together — I  owed  nothing  ! 

"  Gretchen  left  us  just  then;  she  had  heen  quite 
spoiled  by  those  English  servants ;  and  she  went  to 
Mannheim,  to  the  Ponsonbys,  I  believe.  Poor  Madame 
Von  Holzhauser,  cold  as  it  was,  and  unwell  as  she  was 
herself,  came  every  day  to  see  you.  She  was  in  a 
world  of  distress  herself,  for  she  could  not  give 
singing  lessons  for  many  weeks;  however,  she  was 
my  kindest  and  best  friend;  she  sate  up  with  you  two 
nights — oh, how  good  she  was  !  Careful  as  I  was  not  to 
spend  money,  1  bought  from  her  a  deal  of  manuscript 
music.  I  thought  it  was  the  only  way  I  could  return  her 
kindness:  but  I  carefully  kept  from  her  all  my  money 
anxieties;  for  I  am  sure  had  she  known  them,  poor 
and  suffering  as  she  was,  her  generous  heart  would  have 
refused  the  money.  Just  at  the  time  when  Gretchen 
behaved  so  ill,  and  left  me  at  a  day's  warning,  poor 
Madame  Von  Holzhauser  came  saying,  that  in  one 
way  she  could  bring  me  good  news — that  I  might 
then  engage  the  little  Bena,  who  had  been  such  an 
excellent  servant  so  long  with  Madame  Hoffmann;  that 
MadameHoffmann  had  had  a  letter  fromVon  Rosenberg, 
informing  her  of  the  illness  of  her  son ;  he  had  been  ill 
many  weeks;  Von  Rosenberg  had  nursed  him  in  Nu- 
remberg, where  they  still  were.  Madame  Hoffmann 
packed  up  her  things  in  haste,  sent  the  little  Benahome, 
locked  her  doors,  and  set  off  for  the  winter  to  her  son." 

"Dear  me!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Palmer,  "such  a 
healthy  young  man  as  he  seemed ! — But  what  is  amiss, 
Lina?"  asked  she,  as  her  daughter  seemed  sunk  into 
a  fit  of  abstraction,  and  looked  deathly  pale. 

Caroline  started,  as  if  woke  from  a  reverie.  "  It 
.was  a  gloomy  time,"  continued  she;  "an  awfully 
gloomy  time!  I  feared  that  I  might  become  ill 
myself.     Mrs.  Holzhauser  and  Bena  were   both  as 


*A  RETROSl'ECT.  175 

kind  as  possible — so  was  Dr. ;  but  I  wanted 

a,  counsellor;  J  bud  too  much  on  my  mind;  1  even 
feared  for  my  reason.  1  wrote  then  to  Madame  Von 
Vobning;  it  was  tbe  impulse  of.  a  moment,  but  it  was 
right.  In  a  week's  time  that  dear  good  lady  was 
with  us.  1  candidly  told  her  what  our  circumstances 
were,  and  besougbt  her  advice.  I  bad  myself  formed 
the  idea  of  leaving  Heidelberg.  I  could  not  bear  to 
become  tbe  talk  of  that  little  city,  in  our  humble  cir- 
cumstances; as  it  was,  no  one  knew  that  they  were 
different  to  what  they  ever  had  been.  I  thought,  if 
we  removed  to  some  larger  city,  I  might  teach  English 
and  French,  and  give  lessons  on  the  harp.  Madame 
Von  Vobning  thought  so  too.  When,  therefore,  you 
were  able,  to  travel,  we  came  here.  I  brought  Bena 
with  us,  regardless  of  the  small  additional  expense, 
because  she  is  so  good  and  kind,  and  1  have,  perhaps, 
somewhat  of  a  foolish  attachment  to  the  girl.  She  is 
connected,  in  my  mind,  with  the  happy  part  of  our 
residence  inHeidelberg,  and  she  will  talk  unwearyingly 
of  good  Madame  Hoffmann,  which  I  like. 

"  There  is  thus,  you  see,  dear  mother,"  said  Ca- 
roline, "  not  much  to  tell  you — all  the  rest  you  know. 
In  the  spring,  if  you  still  prefer  going  to  England, 

Count goes  there  as  ambassador  with  his  family. 

They  wish  to  engage  me  as  governess  to  their  children : 
the  situation  is  such  as  I  should  like;  to  be  governess 
in  a  German  family,  is  to  be  received  as  a  friend.  My 
only  fear  is,  that  you  cannot  live  comfortably  in  Eng- 
land, on  the  very  small  income  which  we  can  raise."- 

"  I  would  much  rather,"  said  poor  Mrs.  Palmer, 
who,  uneasy  in  her  own  mind,  fancied  there  must  be 
virtue  in  change,  "  live  on  bread  and  water  in  Eng- 
land, than  sumptuously  in  Germany;  and,  if  it  be  no 
very  great  sacrifice  to  you,  dear,  1  should  like  you  to 
engage  with  the  Countess." 


176  ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENIiS  WELL. 

"  It  shall  lie  done."  said   Caroline,  with  a  deep 
sigh,  which,  however,  her  mother  did  not  observe. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

all's  well  that  ends  well. 

Three  years  have  now  passed  between  the  ending  or 
the  last  chapter,  and  the  beginning  of  this,  during 
whicn  time  Caroline  has  had  a  deal  of  experience  of 
the  life  of  a  governess  in  England.     The  good  Count 

and  Countess ,  the  friends    of  Madame  Von 

Vohning,  returned  to  their  own  country  in  about  tvf  elve 
months,  and  Mrs.  Palmer,  worn  out  in  health  and 
spirits,  and  too  feeble  to  travel,  would  not  consent  to 
her  daughter's  returning  with  them.  She  took,  there- 
fore, other  situations,  and,  for  some  time,  acted  as 
daily  governess. 

We  must  see  her  now  sitting  in  the  room  appro- 
priated for  her  use,  in  the  house  of  a  certain  very 
rich  Mr.  Paget  Browne,  in  whose  family,  as  governess 
to  his  only  daughter,  a  great  heiress,  she  had  lived 
now  for  about  six  months.  The  house  was  a  very 
large  one,  in  the  Regent's  Park,  and  was,  on  the 
night  to  which  we  particularly  refer,  prepared  to 
receive  a  large  party.  Everybody  visited  the  Paget 
Brownes.  On  this  particular  evening,  among  others 
were  expected  Millionaire  Wilkinson,  as  he  was  called, 
and  his  nephew  Arthur  Burnett,  with  his  bride,  the 
Lady  Maria,  sister  of  Lord  Somebody;  but  the  great 
star  of  this  evening  would  be,  it  was  hoped,  the  new 
German  musician,  about  whom  all  the  London  world 
was  mad,  and  who,  it  was  whispered,  had  only  that 
very  week  refused — and  in  a  very  peculiar  manner 
too — an  ^lvitation  from  the  lady  of  the  Millionaire 
herself.  it  was  just  like  these  upstart 


all's  well  that  ends  well.  177 

foreigners,  who  come  here  as  poor  as  beggars,  and 
make  fortunes  like  princes ;  but,  however,  it  made  the 
musician  doubly  the  rage,  and  where  he  had  had  one, 
he  had  now  three  invitations  for  a  night. 

Mrs.  Paget  Browne,  before  she  went  to  dress, 
looked  into  the  room  where  Caroline  and  her  daughter 
were  sitting.  "  I  have  just  had  a  note  from  Von 
Rosenberg,"  said  she;  "he  says  he  will  come  to  me 
to-niffht.     I  am  quite  charmed!" 

"  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  in  England,"  said 
Caroline,  changing  colour. 

"  For  ten  days  at  least,"  said  Mrs.  Paget  Browne, 
not  noticing  her  emotion;  "did  I  not  send  you  the 
paper,  with  the  account  of  his  presentation  at  court. 
and  his  concert,  on  Monday,  at  the  Hanover-square 
rooms?" 

"  The  real  Von  Rosenberg,  mamma  ?"  said  Jier 
daughter,  starting  up  in  great  delight — "  Von  Rosen- 
berg, whose  music  we  love  so  much  ?" 

"  Yes  love,"  said  her  mother;  "  and  I  think,  Miss 
Palmer,  you  must  let  Constance  hear  him.  You  will 
not  object  to  accompany  her  into  the  drawing-room. 
It  is  not  as  if  you  were  going  in  public,"  said  she, 
not  understanding  Caroline's  silence;  "I  wo\ild  not 
ask  it,  only  T  wish  Constance  to  hear  good  music." 

"I  do  not  object,  indeed,"  said  Caroline.  "I  was 
not  thinking  of  my  dress,"  added  she,  glancing  down 
at  the  bombazine  and  crape  which,  poor  girl,  she  had 
now  been  wearing  about  four  weeks  for  her  mother. 

The  great  suite  of  drawing-rooms  was  filled  with 
gay  people.  Caroline  compelled  herself  to  be  calm, 
and  stood  in  a  recess  of  the  room,  with  her  fair  young 
pupil  leaning  on  her  arm.  She  heard  people  talking 
near  her;  they  said  that  the  Wilkinsons  would  not  be 
there  that  night.  One  gentleman  said  he  wQuld  lay  a 
wager  upon  it,  because  Von  Rosenberg  was  coming, 


178  all's  well  that  ends  well. 

that  Von  Rosenberg  had  cut  them  three  or  four  time», 
that,  though  the  pride  of  these  foreigners  was  unbear- 
able, still  they  were  glad  that  the  Wilkinsons  had 
Deen  so  mortified ;  and  that  Mr.  Arthur  Burnett  would 
not  come  either,  for  that  he  was  not  particularly 
proud  of  his  bride ;  that  he  had  married  her  mereLy 
f'or  her  brother's  interest,  and  now  he  was  busy  about 
securing  his  election,  which,  after  all,  he  would  lose, 

for  that  his  brother-in-law,  Lord ,  was  not  as 

strong  in  that  quarter  as  they  imagined. 

But  now,  hush!  Mrs.  Paget  Browne  was  crossing 
the  room  with  the  famous  composer  and  violoncello- 
player,  Von  Rosenberg.  All  eyes  were  upon  them; 
everybody  said  he  was  so  handsome,  and  had  such  a 
gloriously  intellectual  head,  and  such  beautiful  hair. 

"I  must  introduce  my  daughter  to  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Paget  Browne ;  "  you  have  no  greater  admirer  than 
she  in  London ;  she  must  dream  of  your  music,  for 
she  thinks  of  nothing  else  all  day !" 

He  bowed  both  to  the  beautiful  girl  and  her  mother. 
"  Stay,  Mr.  Von  Rosenberg,"  said  the  young  Con- 
stance, who  was  full  of  generous  impulses,  and  feared 
no  one ;  "  this  is  my  governess,  Miss  Palmer,  who 
knew  you  in  Germany,  and  has  told  me  a  deal  about 
you!" 

He  turned  suddenly  round — all  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  Caroline,  who  was  pale  as  death.  He  remem- 
bered the  Lmglish  custom,  which  he  and  Hoffmann 
had  liked  so  much,  and  offered  her  his  hand.  With 
a  violent  effort  she  commanded  her  feelings,  and 
returned  his  greeting  with  composure.  Amongst  the 
gay  and  the  titled,  the  poor  governess,  who  but  for 
the  notice  of  the  great  popular  favourite,  nobody* 
would  have  cared  for,  became  at  once  an  object  of 
interest.  She  was  questioned  on  all  sides  as  to  her 
acquaintance  with  him — his  early  life — his  connex* 


all's  well  that  ends  well.  179 

ions — anything  that  she  could  tell.     It  was  qui'e 
relief  when  silence  was  commanded,  for  that  he  was 
going  to  play. 

He  played,  and  everybody  went  into  raptures — those 
who  understood  the  merit  of  his  performance,  and 
those  who  did  not — for  it  was  the  reigning  fashion  to 
be  enraptured  by  Von  Rosenberg's  music. 

"Do  ask  him  to  play  the  Betrothal!"  said  some- 
body; "for,  though  it  is  not  new,  it  is  so  glorious!" 

"He  has  been  asked,"  said  another;  "I  heard  him 
asked  by  three  several  persons,  and  he  said  that  to- 
night he  could  not  play  it!" 

"How  odd!"  said  a  third. 

It  made  quite  a  sensation  in  the  house  the  next  day, 
when  Von  Rosenberg  called,  not  only  on  Mrs.  Pag  t 
Browne,  but  on  the  poor  governess  also.  They  talked 
about  old  times;  about  Pauline,  and  the  good  okl 
Geheimerath,  who,  Von  Rosenberg  said,  had  invited 
him  to  return  for  the  Christmas  Eve ;  and  of  course 
he  should  do  so — 4ns  lehre-jahre  would  then,  he 
hoped,  be  completed ;  but  he  knew  not — the  Geheime- 
rath was  a  stern  task-master.  They  talked  about 
Madame  Hoffmann — Von  Rosenberg  talked  of  Karl — 
Caroline  felt  as  if  she  could  not  mention  his  name ; 
he  told  of  his  illness  in  Nuremberg,  and  of  the  winter 
they  spent  there.  Madame  Hoffmann,  he  said,  was 
now  living  just  as  she  used  to  do,  in  her  old  dwelling 
in  Heidelberg;  he  doubted  not  but  even  that  little 
Bena  was  with  her.  Karl,  he  said,  had  just  been  there, 
but  that  he  was  now  gone  to  live  at  Berlin,  being 
especially  invited  there  by  the  young  king,  who  was 
bent  upon  gathering  around  him  the  most  celebrated 
and  promising  minds  of  Germany.  He  himself,  he 
said,  had  an  invitation  also  to  reside  there,  but  Pau- 
line must  decide  for  him.  Hoffmann,  he  said,  it  was 
probable  would  before  long  come  over  to  England : 


180  all's  well  jhat  ends  well. 

he  had,  he  said,  written  to  him  that  very  morning, 
urging  him  to  come  whilst  he  was  there. 


How  busy  everybody  is  before  Christmas-Eve  m 
Germany!  All  the  land  through,  from  the  palace  of 
the  Kaiser,  down  to  the  cottage  of  the  poorest  pea- 
sant, every  one,  old  and  young,  is  preparing  a  gift, 
the  best  he  can  make,  the  one  which  he  thinks  will  be 
liked  best,  for  each  one  that  he  loves.  Walk  through 
any  town  or  city  of  Germany,  from  one  end  of  the 
land  to  the  other,  and  on  Christmas-Eve  in  every 
home  is  rejoicing.  Through  the  unshuttered  windows 
you  see  the  rooms  lighted  up,  as  if  for  a  general  illu- 
mination— it  is  the  Christ-tree,  bearing  its  thousand 
tapers,  and  shining  out,  a  vision  of  beauty,  casting 
down  light  and  splendour  upon  the  gifts  which  lie 
spread  abroad  below.  From  every  house  is  heard 
sounds  of  gladness — the  bursting  laugh  of  delighted 
and  astonished  children — whilst  parents  and  friends 
stand  by  with  tearful  eyes,  and  hearts  overflowing 
with  love. 

It  is  a  blessed  night — it  is  the  one  night  throughout 
the  year,  in  which,  most  emphatically,  the  broad  wings 
of  universal  love  overshadow  all  things!  They  say 
that  the  angelic  Christ-child  is  gone  forth  with  his 
shining  wings,  the  emblem  of  the  great  Christian  spirit, 
diffusing  peace  and  joy,  and  good-will,  and  showering 
down  gifts  upon  all!  They  have  said  truly;  their 
hearts  have  received  him  with  all  the  simplicity  and 
faith  fif  little  children;  they  have  brought  the  great 
spirit  of  love  down  to  their  own  firesides,  and,  the 
whole  year  through,  they  experience  the  blessing  of  it! 

"What  busy  preparation  then  was  there  in  the  dwell- 
ing of  the  Geheimerath  Dainian,  for  many  days  before 
the  Chtistmas-Eve  of  1840! 

The  Herr  Geheimerath  and  his  sister  called  one  day 


all's  well  that  ends  well.  181 

on  Mrs.  Hoffmann.  "You  must  hold  your  Christ- 
mas-Eve with  us,"  said  he ;  you  must  come  to  us  with 
all  your  gifts  and  your  rejoicings;  our  young  people 
are  all  very  busy ;  Von  Rosenberg  comes,  as  you 
know,  but  Pauline  knows  nothing  of  it." 

The  aunt  said  that  she  had  bought  the  tree — a  tree 
of  unusual  dimensions,  because  she  expected  it  had 
that  year  to  overshadow  extraordinary  gifts.  Bena. 
she  said,  must  come  and  help  to  ornament  it;  that  the 
lame  Peter,  who  was  come  home  for  his  Christmas, 
and  was  wonderfully  improved  every  way,  was  to  he 
there;  he  had,  she  said,  gifts  of  his  own  to  present, 
especially  to  Karl's  young  wife,  for  whom  he  had  great 
affection ;  she  had  seen  the  poor  fellow's  gifts,  she  said, 
but  of  course  she  could  say  no  more ;  that  he  had  also 
various  little  devices  for  the  tree,  which  charmed  her 
much,  and  he  was  to  come  and  help  for  several  days. 

Mrs.  Hoffmann  received  a  letter  three  days  before 
Christmas-Eve,  written  from  Aix-la-Cbapelle  :  it  was 
from  Karl.  He  said  that  he  and  his  wife,  and  Von 
Rosenberg,  had  travelled  thus  far  on  their  journey, 
and,  spite  of  the  season,  all  had  been  pleasant  and 
prosperous ;  that  assuredly,  on  the  day  before  Christ- 
mas-Eve, they  would  present  themselves,  but  not 
before,  as  the  Herr  Geheimerath  had  forbidden  it. 
They  should  take  their  time,  and  arrive  unfatigued  by 
travelling,  that  they  might  all  enjoy  the  Christmas- 
Eve  thoroughly.  Caroline  added  something  to  the 
letter,  which  pleased  the  good  lady  no  little;  for  the 
German  in  which  it  was  expressed,  was  pure  as  that  oi 
a  native;  the  calligraphy  too  was  German,  and  the 
sentiments  those  of  the  most  cordial  affection — worthy, 
said  the  kind  mother-in-law,  of  the  warmest  Ger- 
man heart. 

"Well,"  said  she,  to  Madame  Von  Holzhauser, 
with  whom  things  were  once  more  going  on  tolerably 

16 


182  all's  well  that  ends  well. 

smoothly,  "he  said  he  would  enrich  me  this  Christmas 
with  a  nohle  gift;  he  will  do  so  indeed,  it  this  my 
new  daughter  be  only  half  what  he  and  Von  Rosen- 
berg tell  me  :  but  you  are  invited  to  the  Herr  Geheime- 
rath's,"  said  she. 

Madame  Von  Holzhauser  wiped  her  eyes,  and  said 
it  made  her  weep  to  think  what  the  Frau  Doctorin's 
(Mrs.  Karl's)  feelings  would  be,  on  returning  thus 
to  all  her  old  acquaintance;  but, as  to  her  going  to  the 
Herr  Geheimerath's,  that  could  not  be;  she  always 
kept  a  little  Christmas  at  home ;  her  husband  she  said, 
would  expect  it — it  was  one  of  the  few  things  which 
put  him  in  really  good  humour;  and  she  did  not  know 
exactly,  but  she  thought  he  had  been  making  some 
little  preparation  of  his  own  for  it. 

Mrs.  Hoffmann  gave  her  her  hand,  and  said  how 
much  pleased  she  was  to  hear  it. 

On  the  evening  of  the  23rd  of  December,  a  carriage 
drove  into  Heidelberg,  through  the  Mannheim  gate. 
It  was  cold,  bitterly  cold,  that  evening,  as  everybody 
may  remember.  The  postilion  came  on  blowing  his 
horn,  which  sounded  loud  and  shrill  in  the  clear, 
frosty  air.  The  carriage  passed  the  house  of  the 
Herr  Geheimeivith,  and  up  the  street,  drawing  up  at 
last  before  the  door  of  the  house  where  Madame  Hoff- 
mann was  still  a  dweller.  Happy  Caroline!  Did 
she  think  of  that  summer  evening,  when  she  first  saw 
Karl  and  his  friends  arrive  at  that  very  door?  Per- 
haps she  did.  Bena  stood  on  the  stairs  with  a  candle, 
and  Mrs.  Hoffmann,  dressed  so  nicely,  came  out  to 
meet  them  at  her  sitting-room  door. 

"  Welcome,  my  daughter,"  said  she,  kissing  her 
most  affectionately. 

Caroline  returned  the  kiss,  but  her  heart  was  too 
full  to  speak. " 

About  an  hour  afterwards,  when  all  their  travelling 


all's  well  that  ends  well.  183 

things  were  taken  off,  and  they  were  sitting  happily 
together  at  tea,  the  good  Geheimerath  walked  in. 
"  1  am  not  come  to  stay,"  said  he,  "  only  to  bid  you 
welcome,  and  to  know  that  you  are  all  well.  Feld- 
mann  is  at  the  door,"  said  he,  "  but  he  will  not  com 
in."  Yon  Rosenberg  went  out  and  compelled  theii 
merry-hearted  friend  to  enter.  "Only  one  quarter  ot 
in  hour,"  said  the  good  old  man,  taking  out  his 
.vatch,  "will  we  stay  with  you." 

The  great  drawing-room,  or  saloon  as  it  was  called, 
in  the  Herr  Geheimerath's  house,  was  closed,  as  il 
with  seven  seals  and  twice  seven  locks,  excepting  to 
two  persons — the  lame  Pete-r,  who  had  the  ordering 
of  all  the  lesser  arrangements,  and  the  good  aunt,  to 
whom  the  Geheimerath  himself,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  family,  committed  gifts  and  important  secrets. 

About  four  o'clock,  when  it  was  getting  dusk,  she 
and  Peter  were  observed  to  come  out  of  the  saloon 
with  very  self-satisfied  faces,  as  if  all  their  work  was 
done. 

"  Is  all  ready?"  inquired  the  younger  voices. 

"  No,  no ;  to  be  sure,  not  till  it  is  quite  dark," 
said  the  elder  ones. 

At  last  it  grew  dark,  and  then  Peter  and  the  aunt 
went  in  again  with  lighted  candles.  Tho  family,  all 
dressed  in  their  best,  were  assembled  in  the  adjoining 
room,  which  opened  into  the  saloon.  Madame  Hoff- 
mann was  there,  and  kindly  welcomed  by  all.  There 
stood  Karl  and  his  English  wife.  Von  Rosenberg 
was  not  there  ;  none  of  the  Hoffmanns  had  seen  him 
for  all  the  afternoon ;  they  wondered  where  he  was, 
but  they  did  not  ask,  for  they  had  the  Geheimerath's 
injunction  of  silence. 

The  children  declared  that  the  Christ-child  must 
have  entered,  for  that  light  shone  through  the  cracks 
ol  the  door.     Their  father  quietly  extinguished  th« 


184  all's  well  that  ends  well. 

..amp  in  the  room  where  they  were,  and  then,  ifitieed, 
bright  lines  of  light  were  visible. 

"  Hush!"  said  the  Geheimerath,  and  the  two  large 
folding-doors  slowly  opened  and  revealed  the  dazzling 
temple  of  the  Christ-child.  Aloft  stood  the  blazing 
tree,  shining  with  its  hundreds  of  lights,  and  bearing 
its  glittering  fruit  of  sugar-work.  Hundreds  of  little 
tapers  flamed  from  among  the  green  moss  which  edged 
the  tables  on  which  the  gifts  of  so  many  loving  hearts 
were  displayed.  Nobody  was  forgotten — neither 
Madame  Von  Holzhauser,  though  she  was  not  there, 
nor  the  bed-ridden  grandfather,  nor  the  little  Bena ;  and 
Peter  saw,  though  he  had  no  idea  of  it  before,  that  the 
good  aunt  had  her  little  corner  of  mystery  also  covered 
up  with  a  cloth. 

Caroline  leaned  on  the  arm  ot  her  husband,  and 
smiled  with  tearful  eyes,  blessing  in  her  soul  this 
warm-hearted  German  land,  which,  with  all  its  wis- 
dom and  philosophy,  has  preserved  so  much  child- 
like simplicity  in  its  heart. 

The  Herr  Geheimerath  came  forward ;  there  was  a 
smile  on  his  face  of  the  most  affectionate  happiness 
He  took  Pauline  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  towards  the 
Christ-tree,  behind  which  hung  a  long  crimson  curtain 

"  Lift  that  curtain,"  said  he,  "  and  there  thou  will 
fi'nd  my  gift  to  thee." 

•  She  lifted  it,  or  rather,  it  was  lifted  at  the  samp 
moment,  and  Von  Rosenberg  clasped  her  in  his  arms 

"Thy  year  of  probation  is  ended!"  said  the  good 
father;  "receive  thy  wife!  Pauline,  my  blessing  b« 
jn  thee!  receive  thy  husband!" 

THK    END. 


A 


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